


to all we were & could have been

by darkofthemorning



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Endings, F/M, Original Character(s), i don't even know what this is i'm so sorry, there's a lot going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 08:10:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkofthemorning/pseuds/darkofthemorning
Summary: What might have happened if Tessa had quit skating after her first surgery.





	to all we were & could have been

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this almost two months ago with the intent of a short little one-shot that explored this timeline I randomly thought of at 2 AM.
> 
> Who would have thought it would turn into this?
> 
> I've been religiously working on this story since July, and I can honestly say that I have never put as much work into a piece of writing as I have this one. I really like the way this one turned out, and my hope is that everyone else likes it just as much as I do.
> 
> I will never, ever stop thanking Idella for their help with this fic and giving me such incredible feedback to get this piece to where it is now. So thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm so grateful for you.

_ **February 17, 2014** _

“_Representing Canada: Alana Hughes and Scott Moir.” _

Even after five years, it still sounds slightly wrong, to hear his name preceded by four syllables that aren’t Tessa’s own name.

However, there’s no annoyance sprinkled throughout her muscles or jealousy hibernating in her mind.

At one point, maybe there was; maybe in the beginning. 

But not anymore. 

It’s instead an inexplicable flurry of sadness in her heart and her nerves, each individual cell hanging heavy with the weight of their short-lived partnership.

It turns her lips an ugly shade of greyish blue and numbs the tips of her fingers, just above where her nails have been bitten down to the quick from her stress-filled schedule.

If she was still skating, Tessa knows that Marina would chastise her for it: for her unkempt cuticles and the sharp, ragged edges of her brittle nails. Marina always said that female skaters’ nails had to be perfectly manicured, the length not too long but not too short. Preferably painted with polish, but it didn’t matter; just stick with nudes or light pinks. The nails are on display just as much as the costume, she’d say. They’re an accent piece, much like earrings or hair pieces, so treat them as such.

But Tessa doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. 

Her hands grow cold whenever she thinks about what was, is, and what could have been, both in terms of her skating and her and Scott’s partnership. It causes everything she touches to sparkle with the same glimmer as the ice she and Scott once skated on together.

They had so much potential.

_ Had_.

Now, it’s her ghost that glides alongside him on the ice, a younger version of herself that wasn’t in pain and was happy just because she was by his side.

Even after five years, she can still feel the way the blade of her skate sliced into the surface of the ice. Those clean lines on the freshly flooded arena brought her a satisfaction that nothing else in the world could ever come close to. 

The rink was her Eden, her paradise, the only thing that made getting up in the morning worth it.

But that was then.

Now, she watches as Canada’s sweethearts step onto Olympic ice on her television, hand-in-hand. Their arms rise above their heads in introduction, slowly falling back to their sides as they complete a single quick but graceful lap around the rink, en route to their starting positions.

In the short time that Alana and Scott have been skating together, they quickly climbed the rankings to become one of the best ice dance teams in the world. It blew Tessa away how good they were; no team could feel and portray the music quite like they could. That mixed with Scott’s musicality and fluidity and Alana’s technicality and precision made them basically unstoppable. 

Of course, it took a lot of work for them to get there; Tessa remembers how hard the first year was for Scott. But, they made it.

Tessa honestly thinks that where Scott and Alana are now is where she and him were back in 2008, though it took them double the time to become so good.

Nostalgia that fills Tessa’s eyes then, transporting her to a time where she was once in Alana’s place; where she got to hold Scott’s hand, inhale his scent, be consumed by his hazel eyes, be so close to him nearly every minute of her life.

She can’t deny that she misses that sometimes.

But she’s happy for the girl who now twizzles in her place.

She really is.

Alana is beautiful. Tessa’s known this since Alana started skating at Arctic Edge. And when Scott officially introduced Alana to her back in late 2009, Tessa’s label was only reinforced.

Her beauty is even more noticeable now: her tanned skin is accented by the flowing, baby pink dress that adorns her body. Tessa admires the way the skirt ripples like ocean waves in the wind created by the duo’s journey around the rink, and she can’t help but fall in love with the intricate swirls across the bodice of the dress. 

It’s exactly the type of dress Tessa would skate in. 

The woman is a lot like her, not so much appearance-wise, but in every other way. Tessa’s always loved how she could see herself in the skater; there’s a little bit of Tessa in everything Alana does, though not on purpose. She wonders if this is why Alana gets along so well with both her and Scott, or why the couple reminds her so much of what was once team Virtue and Moir. 

Alana also has a background in dance, much like Tessa. She started skating young, at the age of three, dancing competitively starting at the age of four. But, she abandoned dance at 12 to allow for more focus on her skating, and entered the scene as a singles skater.

The teen took the skating world by storm, spectators immediately falling in love with the way she could move on the ice. Tessa remembers watching her perform in the beginning, when she and Scott would sometimes sneak out of practice or training to watch their friends skate.

Tessa and Scott were never really that close with Alana, though. Not that they didn’t want to be, but more because they didn’t get the chance. Being a singles skater, Alana didn’t train on the same schedule as Tessa and Scott did in Canton. So, besides random sightings around the rink at Arctic Edge or at competitions, they didn’t really interact.

Of course, they’d always make small talk if they did see each other; Tessa liked to be kind to all the skaters. Alana was just as nice back to the two of them. 

The girl has talent; Tessa can’t deny it. She is graceful and light yet so strong in her skating, both as a singles skater and an ice dancer. Alana embodies every program so perfectly, every movement so precisely crafted to create a performance that people remember long after she takes her bow once the music ends, and long after they leave the arenas and return home.

She thinks she can count on one hand how many skaters leave an impact on the ice as grand as Alana does. 

She’s glad that Scott was paired with her. 

Now, Alana’s pin-straight, jet black hair is slicked back into an elegant bun, not a strand out of place. Her almond eyes squint with joy as she tries to hide her laugh, her straight, white teeth on display for just a moment before her face relaxes with determination.

Tessa bets she was laughing at something Scott said through his smile. 

When they used to compete, they learned how to speak to each other without moving their lips. It was a funny thing; they would have full conversations on the rink, whether during training, practice, or the actual performance, but no one on the sidelines could tell. It just looked like they were in the zone and focused on every glide of their blade, every edge and cross and bend in their knee.

But most of the time, they were cracking the dumbest jokes to calm their nerves. 

She’s sure that’s what Scott’s doing now.

After all, the Olympic stage is the biggest one in sports. Of course there’s pressure. All of Canada is betting on them to win.

She hopes they skate well; her heart is pounding as wildly as she knows theirs are.

Except while they’re in Sochi, Russia, taking their places at center ice on the biggest stage in sports, in-character as they wait for their free dance music to begin, Tessa’s in Toronto, sitting on her couch in her small studio apartment. Her focus is on her television as opposed to her laptop screen, which displays the first 100 words of the 18,000-word master’s thesis that she’s _ supposed _ to be writing on the way healthy active living in childhood is correlated with more positive mental health in adolescence and early adulthood. 

It can wait, though.

As the music begins, Tessa can’t help but place herself in Alana’s skates, picturing herself as though she was the one skating with Scott at the Olympics. 

It should have been her, she thinks. It should have been her on the ice there, pulling and pushing and twirling and balancing across every inch of that ice.

It could have been her. 

It should have been.

But maybe that just wasn’t in the plans for her.

Maybe it was never going to be her.

Maybe she was the only one who ever thought it could be. 

** _October 23, 2008_ **

Tessa’s been a prisoner to this uncomfortable hospital bed for the past three days. 

She wants nothing more than to just spring onto the cold floor and run and spin and jump around the room she shares with two other strangers in their own worlds of recovery. 

Her legs are still sore from Tuesday’s surgery in an attempt to correct what was identified as compartment syndrome about half a year ago. It came after months of complaints about the worsening pain in her shins during training sessions or practices or competitions.

At first, Tessa was dismissed and told that she was just overworking herself. She was advised to put less effort into her sport. 

How on earth could they expect her to put less effort in and still be on track to becoming half of one of the best ice dance teams in the world?

They were ridiculous to think she would listen to them.

Eventually, Tessa was diagnosed with the condition. Things began to make sense to her but at the same time, she didn’t understand how her legs could betray her at such a crucial point in her career; they were in the middle of an Olympic quad, and she was certain that her and Scott would make Team Canada this time.

Plus, these next Olympics are in their own country. 

They _ had _to go. She was sure they would make it. 

But then, she wasn’t so sure. 

When the pain got even worse at the beginning of the current season, it resulted in her and Scott having to withdraw from their Grand Prix assignments. It broke her to have to do that, to let down everyone, but especially to let down Scott. 

It was hard. 

But, she just couldn’t skate with that pain anymore.

So, Tessa was given two options: dozens of sessions of physiotherapy to try to correct the muscle, or surgery, which has a higher success rate.

She didn’t even hesitate to go with the surgery, even with all the risks and extensive recovery time that came with it.

Time was important here, and time is not what Tessa had. She and Scott had to work harder than ever and push their limits if they were going to secure their spot in Vancouver.

Why waste time at physio, taking things slowly when she could just go straight for the jackpot?

The surgery was booked for October 20.

Tessa can’t remember if she told Scott.

She does remember having to tell him that they would have to withdraw from their Grand Prix assignments because of the pain, but she doesn’t remember if the word ‘surgery’ came up during that time.

They had been on a bit of rocky ground prior to their withdrawal, disagreeing more often and becoming much more agitated with each other. Not to mention how indescribably distant Scott was acting, taking long periods of time to text one word back to her or making excuses as to why they couldn’t hang out.

She isn’t sure if it was something she did or if their dynamic was simply changing, but it made Tessa feel uneasy. 

She was hoping that after her surgery, things would get better for them, and they could go back to the way things were.

But now, Tessa isn’t so sure; despite her surgery taking place three days ago, she hasn’t received a visit by nor even a _ text _ from Scott.

And that makes everything else just a little more complicated.

The doctors told her that the pressure in her muscles was slightly higher than anticipated, so the procedure would not make a huge difference. The most it would do is relieve her of some pain for approximately three to six weeks. 

If she continues to skate as intensely as she is, she could worsen the condition and weaken the muscle to the point where surgery may not even help anymore. 

Essentially, the doctors were making her choose between skating or her health, and they weren’t making it easy at all for her.

But now, three days and a lot of crying later, Tessa thinks she’s made her official decision. 

And there’s only one other person who she knows it will hurt as much as it’s hurt her.

So, Tessa’s been occupying—but mostly distracting—herself with the _ Twilight _ book one of her friends loaned to her the day before her surgery, claiming it was the best book ever written. She sits cross-legged on the bed like a child, hunched over the book which now sits in her lap.

_ Everyone _ is reading it, she had said. It’s the hottest book of the year, and Tessa _ needed _to read it.

Well, Tessa thinks it’s absolute shit. 

It makes no sense.

None.

But she’s pushing through to the end, hoping that maybe it’ll get better in the final half.

She highly doubts it, though. 

How do people genuinely enjoy stuff like this?

If she wasn’t so adamant on finishing everything she starts, she would have put this book down after the first page.

And that’s the truth. 

“Tess.” 

Her head is quickly drawn from the setting of the book and into the space between the white walls of her reality.

Her heart aches at the slight crack in that familiar voice that speaks her name. 

There’s a wariness to it that she’s never quite heard before, a contrast to the usual warmth it provides. 

It’s almost cautionary, asking for permission to advance farther into the room. 

She would never deny its request.

“Scott.” 

The name rolls off her lips in a soft whisper, as if anything even a decibel higher would scare him away. 

Tessa hasn’t actually talked to Scott since their official announcement to withdraw their GP assignments. 

That was three weeks ago.

It was odd, not really staying in touch with someone she’s spent practically every waking hour of the last 10 years of her life with. 

It was a sense of familiarity that vanished as quickly as a butterfly might land on a child’s nose and then fly away. 

Except while there is beauty in a butterfly, the way the bright colours of its delicate wings blur together with the flutter of their wings, there was nothing beautiful about the time Tessa and Scott spent apart.

Scott is one of Tessa’s vital organs; without him, she can’t function. 

It’s not that she didn’t want to speak to him, because god, he’s the only person in the world she wants around, the only person who’s voice she needs to hear to know everything’s alright, the only pair of arms she wants to hibernate in for the rest of her life.

She just feels guilty. 

If it weren’t for her stupid legs, she and Scott would still be skating, would be skating right now, actually.

But it’s her fault that they had to withdraw and now it’s her fault that she can’t skate with Scott anymore. 

He had no say in this. 

Tessa can’t even count how many sleepless nights she spent staring at the stupid popcorn ceiling in her bedroom, watching all the little dots create abstract images of her and her best friend in the dark.

She tried to call, to message him, but as soon as her phone found itself in the palms of her hands, her fingers grew stiff, protesting the slight movements needed to type out a simple “Hey” or to select his name in her contacts to call.

Sometimes, she would just sit like that, her body unmoving with her phone in her hands, for what felt like hours. 

Why the hell could she never go through with it?

It’s simple: how do you tell the person who’s been by your side through it all—through each summit and trench and the tragically beautiful moments that lie between—in pursuit of your wildest dreams, that you can no longer do the same for them? 

And the answer was just as easy: you can’t.

And so she didn’t. 

He never reached out to her during that time either, though. 

But now he’s here and he’s standing in the doorway looking effortlessly attractive as always, even with the worry lines etched into his forehead that she wants so desperately to smooth out and the sorrow pooling in his eyes that she wants to wipe away and that weight of words unsaid he’s carrying on his shoulders that she wants to relieve him of.

They stare at each other for a few moments; she a pale mess of dark eye circles and rumpled hospital gown, the appearance of her speckled cheeks and dark under eye circles more prominent, and him looking at her as though the doctors told him she was dying.

She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry or run to him and throw herself into his arms and have him hold her and convince her racing mind that everything’s going to be okay.

But that would be a lie. 

Nothing’s okay.

“I—” A loud sob rocks her entire body. She continuously opens her mouth in an attempt to speak, but nothing comes out.

He wastes no time flying over to her bedside, sitting on the mattress’ edge and immediately taking her into his arms and holding her tight. He cradles the back of her head and brings her close to him, gently rocking her fragile frame as though she were a child.

It only breaks something deep within her, the final crack in the dam that has tears escaping even more rapidly from her eyes.

He’s seen her cry so many times, but this time is different. 

She feels so vulnerable, so small.

Tessa focuses on the way her fallen tears form obscure shapes on Scott’s red shirt.

But it only makes her cry harder.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

They stay like that for a while, alone in that section of the room. He holds her as though she’d float away if he let go, and she cries oceans into his shoulder to replace the drought that lay between them in the past month.

Tessa can already sense their revival. 

She eventually lifts her head from Scott’s shoulder, creating as much space between them as his hold on her will allow. She finds that she can’t seem to bring herself to look at him. 

Because now she has to tell him what she’s been meaning to all month.

And that means everything becomes real.

And she can’t do that from the crook of his neck, though it is a much more comfortable place.

“I can't skate anymore,” she says suddenly, breaking the tranquil silence. Her voice sounds like sweet gravel, remnants of sobs still lodged in her throat. “I can’t skate anymore, Scott. I—”

“It’s fine, T. You’ll be fine.”

She shivers as he slides his hand from the back of her head down to rest on her shoulder, rubbing circles into her collarbone with his thumb.

Tessa still can’t look at him, not even as she leans her head forward, Scott doing the same until their foreheads meet somewhere in the middle.

Is it weird that she kind of wants to kiss him right now?

Definitely.

But when she meets Scott’s eyes, he’s got that same look on his face as the once she’s sure is plastered on hers: the starry eyes full of longing, features softened, lips parted just slightly as if preparing to meet with hers, just inches away.

In perfect unison, as always, with everything they do, there’s the fluttering close of green and hazel eyes, erratic heartbeats echoing in their ears, as they lean in closer to each other.

Her lips graze his, the lightest of touches, yet it ignites every cell in her body, setting her aglow with a fire only he can create. 

But she can’t kiss him. No, she can’t. Not right now. 

So Tessa pulls back slightly, and she hates the way her veins instantly cool and the way Scott’s eyes fill with confusion.

“Scott,” she starts, more firmly this time. “I can’t skate anymore.”

He shifts around on the bed, and Tessa can’t help the way her heart drops when he sits back, creating more space between them than she prefers. 

“Of course you can. You just need a little physio or whatever, and you’ll be fine by Four Continents. Maybe even by Nats, right?”

Tessa shakes her head, consequently shaking new tears from her already puffy eyes. She looks down at her hands, wringing them continuously to occupy herself. 

“My, um, compartment syndrome is worse than the doctors thought.” She averts her eyes away from Scott’s gaze.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He doesn’t say it with attitude. It’s a genuine question; she can tell by the softness in his voice. 

Though it’s laced with a little bit of something else.

“They said if I keep putting stress on the muscles, specifically with skating, I could create a lot more problems. And right now...I’m dancing on that line, Scott.”

Tessa tries to let out a laugh, but it sounds more like a sigh or a cough or a sob or something that is not at all what she intended. 

Not that any of this is funny. 

When Scott fails to say anything, Tessa takes it as an invitation to continue. “They said the surgery can provide temporary relief, but it won’t really make anything better. I...I don’t want to quit, but I don’t want to be here every month for surgeries or waste training time in physio or get to the point where I can’t even walk without pain.”

She has so much more to say, but she has to stop there because suddenly water is shooting from her eyes again, her throat tightening.

“T—”

“I just...I feel like an absolute let down. The Olympics are just over a year away, just one year! That’s what we’ve been training for our whole lives and we basically have it, it’s right there right in front of us.” Tessa presses the heels of her hand into her eyes hard as a sob escapes her. “I can do it. It’s just one more season, right? Just one more season and then I’ll quit and it won’t be as hard because at least your dream would have been fulfilled and—”

“Tess—”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, though she’s pretty sure it was incomprehensible. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Geez, Tessa, listen to me before I toss you out the window.”

It makes Tessa laugh, a bit of a choked up one, but a laugh all the same. She wipes her eyes and nose with the backs of her hands like a child before looking back up at Scott. 

“Sorry.”

It’s Scott’s turn to laugh now. “First, stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She nods. “Sor—okay.”

“The Olympics are cool, but they aren’t worth it. They aren’t worth you. Not worth your sadness, not worth your pain, not worth you. Got it?”

Tessa looks down at her hands and attempts a smile.

“If going to the Olympics means you can never walk again after that, you know what?” He pauses a moment, as if searching for what he wants to say next. Then, he says a little too loudly: “Fuck the Olympics.”

“Scott!” She slaps his arm when some of the nurses passing by stop and look at them, face reddening as her eyes grow wide. 

“Oops,” he says when he notices the attention he just drew to themselves. “Well, It’s true. Fuck the Olympics.”

Tessa shakes her head. “You know that’s not true.”

“I literally just said it was, were you not listening?”

“The Olympics have been your dream forever. There’s absolutely no way you’re fine with giving it up that easily. I don’t believe you.”

Scott’s face softens, his features laced with some sort of unconventional cross between defeat and hope.

“Okay, yeah, I mean of course I’m a little sad about not going, but I’d never hurt you just to get what I want. That makes no sense. That’s not how we work.”

“Yes, sir.” Tessa salutes jokingly, earning a chuckle from her friend.

He takes her hands in his, giving them a squeeze of reassurance.

Tessa wonders how this change in Scott’s character came about, how he went from ignoring her to _ this _. 

Why couldn’t she have had this Scott all along?

“We’re a team. Always. We share the highs, and I’ll share this low with you. It’s fine. We’ll figure it out. We always do. Right?”

“Right,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” he says just as quietly.

They sit silently for a moment, eyes fixated on the ones opposite of them, a fraction of time so microscopically small that it’s virtually invisible on the overwhelming timeline of the vast universe.

But to them, this moment means everything.

So, she does kiss him then, softly at first to give him time to protest. 

He doesn’t.

And suddenly, everything around them disappears.

He holds her gently as if she was the most fragile piece of china in the world, as if a grip too tight would cause her to shatter in his hands. 

They move so well together on the ice, through every twizzle and lift and edge and spin, in such perfect unison that it’s terrifyingly beautiful. 

They’re like an extension of one another; where one goes, the other follows. 

Where one moves, the other moves without question.

And off the ice, right now, is no different. 

They move in such perfect synchronization that it must appear as though they’ve done this many times before, like they’ve mastered the art of lip and tongue and touch.

It’s like this rhythm they’re playing so delicately on each other’s mouths is one they learned so long ago, in a time so distant, and they’ve finally been given the chance to play it. 

It’s like teaching a child to play a violin without actually letting them play; showing them the way they would hold the instrument and all the fingerings and each careful movement of the bow, in the absence of that violin.

But once you hand them that violin, god, can they ever play.

Or maybe this song they’re playing comes naturally, some innate sort of talent that makes them virtuosos at this. They can play Mahler and Tchaikovsky and Mozart without practice, without preparation.

So that when they finally pull apart, lips just barely brushing each other, it feels so strange, wrong, even. The absence of Scott’s lips on hers leaves her feeling naked, in a way.

But once she opens her eyes, taking in Scott’s swollen lips and bashful smile and slight blush to his cheeks and starry eyes, that feeling is gone. 

They laugh softly at themselves, sneaking glances at one another like sappy students in a high school hallway. 

Eventually, Scott swings his legs up onto the bed, scooting a little farther away from Tessa to allow himself to sit cross-legged too, mirroring her posture. 

“So, Twilight, huh?” Scott says, his voice low. He picks the book up from its place at her side, turning it over in his hands.

The pages are slightly folded from the way it landed when she tossed it aside.

Tessa smiles and shakes her head, hugging her knee into her chest. “It’s the shittiest book I’ve ever read.”

“Really? I thought it was fantastic. I’m definitely Team Edward, but I have to say, you seem more like a Team Jacob girl.”

She grimaces in disgust. “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you are.”

“Oh, one hundred percent. You couldn’t pay me enough to read that.” Scott hooks his arm around Tessa and pulls her into his side as the two of them laugh so loudly that the nurses have to tell them to quiet down _ twice _.

“The nurses must hate us,” Scott whispers to her.

“I feel like ‘hate’ is an understatement.”

After Scott leaves and returns with food (including sneaking in a burger and fries for Tessa), they launch into conversation about anything and everything as though they hadn’t just gone a month without speaking. 

But one thing that doesn’t come up is their kiss. 

And it never does.

** _January 14, 2009_ **

Tessa spends way too long staring at the small screen of her Blackberry.

Staring back at her are just a few of the countless quick messages she and Scott had been sending back and forth to each other for the last few months, just checking up on each other since the surgery.

She can’t express how incredibly thankful she is for how much Scott has been here for her. 

Whether he’s just trying to make up for that period of time he and Tessa weren’t getting along or if he’s just changed a lot since the arrogant phase, it doesn’t matter. 

Tessa missed this version of Scott: the one who would answer the phone on the first ring; the one who would be there in a second when she needed him; the one who would do absolutely anything to make sure that she was happy.

She’s glad to have him back.

She loves it; she loves him.

But what Tessa doesn’t love is how she found out a few weeks ago from Alma that Scott hasn’t stepped back on the rink since they withdrew from their Grand Prix assignments at the beginning of the season.

Hearing that made her heart sink and blood boil simultaneously.

That’s the problem with having a connection like the one she has with him, this shared mind or soul or whatever it is that everyone says they have: what one feels, the other feels too; what happens to one happens to the other.

Sometimes it’s good, when feelings of joy radiate between them like their own personal ball of sunshine.

But in this case, it isn’t.

It’s as though Scott is taking the news even harder than Tessa is, but he’s trying not to show it.

She doesn’t want him to hurt. 

And she sure as hell doesn’t want him to abandon skating just because of her. 

She can’t let him.

She _ won’t _ let him.

So now, Tessa is staring at her phone, her fingers hovering over the tiny black keys, wondering if there’s truly an easy way to let down the most important person in her life.

For a second time.

She doesn’t think there is.

She decides that maybe talking to Scott face-to-face is the best way to go. 

After all, this is sort of like a break up, isn’t it? And the golden rule of breakups is that it should be done in person.

Or at least that’s what Tessa read in Cosmo once, she thinks.

Not that she reads it or anything like that.

That would be ridiculous.

T: _ You busy? _

Tessa can’t tell if she’s glad or more nervous when she receives a reply within seconds.

S: _ Lucky for you, my afternoon is completely free _

T: _ Mind if I stop by in a bit? _

She knows she could pretty much just walk into the Moir home whenever she wants, but she still feels like she should ask.

S: _ Never _

_ S: Come whenever _

S: _ Haha that rhymes _

T: _ You’re such a dork _

Tessa debates on leaving the conversation there, but decides that maybe she should offer to bring something with her.

T: _ I’ll bring some cookies. Oat choc chip? _

She knows Scott loves those, and maybe it’ll make things less…bad.

S: _ And this is why you’re my best friend _

T: _ Duh, who else would hold that title? _

S: _ Good point _

Tessa smiles to herself, trying to ignore the guilt leaching into her veins.

Why does she feel guilty?

It’s not like she’s done anything wrong.

And it’s not like she’s going to do anything wrong.

She just really cares about Scott and hates seeing him abandon all that he’s worked for over the past 12 years: all the titles, all the skills, all the talent, all the awards.

He doesn’t deserve to be held back, and she can’t figure out why he’s doing that to himself.

He needs to find a new partner before she loses her mind. 

Of course, it stings to imagine Scott skating with someone that isn’t her. 

But this isn’t about her. 

This is about Scott. 

So, Tessa channels the mess of feelings pulsing throughout her body into making the best oatmeal chocolate cookies she ever has.

After almost dropping the plate of cookies three different times on the way up to the door, relief washes over Tessa when Scott opens the door and takes the dish from her so she can take off her boots and jacket.

She can see Scott sneak a cookie artfully from underneath the plastic wrap, and when she looks up from where she’s crouched on the floor, he (rather convincingly) acts as though he had been standing at attention the entire time.

“What?” Scott says casually.

Tessa nods towards the plate. 

“You took a cookie,” she says matter-of-factly.

“No?” It comes out as more of a question. 

“Yes?” Tessa matches his tone.

“No,” Scott tries again, more firmly. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

Tessa raises a brow at him. “There’s literally cookie crumbs at the corner of your mouth.”

Scott hums. “Well, there isn’t, but if there were, I would rebuttal by saying these cookies are for me anyway so it shouldn’t matter.”

She motions between the two of them. “They’re for _ us _.”

“How about you stop taking 10 years to take your shoes off?”

Tessa shrugs, standing back up and placing her boots off to the side before following Scott down the familiar hallway towards the family room.

“Want something to drink?” He asks as she leaps onto her spot on the couch, feet tucked under her like a child.

“I’m good.”

“Not even milk?” He asks as he places the cookies down on the table, ripping the plastic wrap off of the plate without care.

Tessa shakes her head.

“Good. Saves me the trip back to the kitchen then.” Scott jumps onto the cushion beside her, sending a ripple throughout the couch from his impact.

“That’s just pure laziness.”

He rolls his eyes. “No, it’s just me saving my energy.”

Tessa giggles. “Whatever. Where is everyone anyway?”

“Good question.” Scott says it from somewhere beside the arm rest, bent over it as he searches the basket on the floor for the TV remote. He makes a satisfied noise before reassuming his position on the couch with the remote before handing it off to Tessa.

“You don’t know where your own family is?” She asks, flipping through the channels.

Scott shrugs. 

“You’re so strange.”

He makes a face in agreement. “I’ve been told.”

Tessa laughs as she grabs two cookies, handing one off to Scott who is practically drooling beside her.

They knock their cookies together before Scott practically shoves the entire thing in his mouth. Tessa breaks off a small piece of her cookie, then biting an even smaller piece of that.

He practically moans. “T, these are—”

“You need to find a new partner,” she blurts suddenly.

The statement has Scott projecting the chewed cookie from his mouth and across the floor. 

“What?” He has a look of horror on his face.

“Your mom told me you haven’t skated since we withdrew from our GP assignments,” she says quickly, trying to backtrack to explain herself.

He doesn’t respond.

“Okay, um, anyway that all came out wrong, so I’m gonna try again.”

Silence. 

“Is it true? Have you really not skated all season?” Tessa tries to meet his eyes, but he’s looking everywhere except at her. 

“Not exactly,” he says finally, wringing his hands as though they were old rags soaked with liquid. 

He doesn’t elaborate on his statement, instead fixating his gaze on the old black and white sitcom playing on the TV.

“Scott.”

“It’s not—“

“_Scott _.”

He takes a deep breath, avoiding Tessa’s blazing gaze. “Skating isn’t the same without you, and if you can’t skate anymore, why should I? That was my logic. So I didn’t.”

“I can’t let you do that to yourself.”

The show’s laugh track plays in the background, signalling that something funny just played out on the small screen. 

A stark contrast to the here and now.

Tessa continues. “I won’t let you abandon all you’ve worked for just for me. That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. And the stupidest thing you’re currently doing.”

Scott doesn’t say anything.

“Find a new partner and pick back up where we left off. You can still be the greatest, just like you wanted. You just need someone else to get you there.”

“I’m not skating with anyone but you, T.” He says it so sternly that it makes Tessa’s heart hurt.

“Promise me you’ll find someone new. Marina will help you out.”

“And what, so I have to relearn dynamics again? Go through all those struggles again to figure out our strengths? Start out at the bottom again at 21 when I’m supposed to be at my peak? Leave all that _ we both _ accomplished behind? I can’t do that. I can’t forget about all we’ve done that easily.”

“I’m not saying to forget about it. Just...put it on the back burner for now,” Tessa tries to reason.

“_I will not skate with anyone else _.”

“Scott, I’m serious.”

He shakes his head. “I won’t. I can’t.”

“Scott—“

“Obviously everything I’ve said so far has gone in one ear and out the other.” He says it in a joking tone, though there’s a hint of hurt in the layers beneath.

It feels like a thousand stabs to her torso.

She puts her hands up in surrender. “Okay, just hear me out. Okay? Just because I won’t get to live out my Olympic dream doesn’t mean you should have to sacrifice yours. You deserve it more than anyone.”

“Tess—“

“You’re the best ice dancer I know, Scott. You’re so capable of gold. I know it. Just...not with me.”

His voice lowers. “Don’t say that.”

“I have to.”

“Don’t.”

“Please, just promise me.” Tessa’s practically begging at this point; she might as well be on her knees.

“No.”

“You might not be able to get to Vancouver, but you’ll without a doubt make it to Sochi. I believe it. And you might even be good enough to podium.”

Scott fidgets in his seat, picking at his cuticles. “Okay, fine.”

“No, I need to hear you say that you promise. Do it for me. Please.”

“I promise I’ll find a new partner,” he mumbles, not an ounce of confidence in any word spoken. 

But she’ll take it.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

The sitcom’s credits begin rolling as silence settled around them, somewhere between pleasant and unbearable. 

Should she say something?

No, it’s fine.

When the fade-to-black morphs into commercials about what’s on sale this week at Walmart and dramatic medication commercials, Scott gets up from his seat and wanders into the kitchen.

The absence of his weight on the couch beside her distorts the cushion beneath her. 

She tries to adjust the way she’s sitting, tucking her legs further behind her, sitting beside her feet instead of on them, sitting between her tucked legs, but nothing is comfortable anymore. 

Not with him gone. 

She wonders if she should go into the kitchen and see if he’s okay when she can no longer take the tacky stain remover infomercial, but she decides to leave him be when she hears the beeping of pressed microwave buttons and the popping of popcorn kernels.

The smell of butter fills the main floor just as the microwave squeals to announce that its contents are finished cooking. 

The microwave beeps a few times again, and more popping fills the air. 

When Scott returns to the family room, he’s met with Tessa closing the blinds to shield the room from the bright sunset and crouching down to dig one of the bigger blankets out of the pile beneath the window. 

Eventually, she decides upon a quilt she remembers Scott saying his grandmother made, patches of mismatched materials sewed together to form a unique and beautiful story.

Sort of like her and Scott.

“What’s on next?” 

His soft voice breaks the silence, and Tessa stands back up and turns towards him. He’s pouring the popped popcorn into a giant bowl that accompanies the still-full plate of cookies on the table.

“I think it said _ Moulin Rouge! _”

Scott clicks his tongue. “Classic.”

“Obviously.”

Scott drops himself into the corner of the couch, holding his arm out and motioning for her as the movie opens. Haunting music fills the room, the quick clicks of a typewriter keeping time like a metronome for the orchestra.

“C’mere kiddo.”

They both smile at each other as Tessa fits herself into Scott’s side, his arm closing around her to secure her to him.

Tessa opens up the quilt to cover them both, shielding their bodies from the dropping temperatures of January. 

It’s just as she gets into a comfortable spot that Tessa notices how far the food is from them. 

And she really wants some. 

But she doesn’t want to move.

Scott must notice the way she’s eyeing the two dishes on the table, a snort consequently escaping him. 

“What?” Tessa lifts her head from his shoulder, turning to look at him.

“You know what. I have an idea, but it requires you staying absolutely still from this point on.”

“Okay, go.”

Scott bunches up the quilt in two different spots (unintentionally tickling Tessa’s leg in the process) before perfectly fitting the plate of cookies and popcorn into them.

“Ta da!” He sings, shoving a cookie into his mouth as a reward.

Tessa pretends to be thoroughly amazed. “I _ knew _ there was more to you than just your looks.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” She tries to suppress a giggle. 

He points a finger at her, shaking it in warning. “You’re lucky we’re best friends.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It can be.”

Tessa laughs loudly then, a booming sound that reverberates throughout the room, Ewan McGregor’s singing easily becoming lost in the warmth engulfing them.

After a bit (a lot) more of a push, Scott finally began his pursuit for a new partner about a month after his and Tessa’s talk. 

He talked to Marina about what he wanted in a partner, of course someone who was as similar to Tessa as possible. 

And just a week later, Marina found the perfect match: Alana Hughes. 

Alana had expressed an interest in switching disciplines following the 08/09 season, and though Marina was hesitant due to the difficulty of switching, she decided to pair her with Scott Moir. 

Marina had thought it would be great: partnering one of her best female skaters with one of her best ice dancers who just expressed that he needed a new partner.

The woman knew she was taking a big risk, but she had confidence in Alana; a quick learner who already had a background in dance, Marina was sure Alana could pull through. 

And that she did. 

** _April 5, 2009_ **

Alana and Scott trained with each other virtually every day following the date of their pairing. Each half of the duo had a lot to learn: Alana, the technical skills behind the new discipline, as they’re much different from singles; and Scott, navigating an unfamiliar dynamic, unknowing of how they would balance each other out.

But with Scott consumed by the rough waters of his new partnership—training more often and more intensely than he and Tessa ever had, something that she never thought was possible—Tessa found her days growing heavy with a kind of loneliness she’s never quite felt before. 

It’s not that she had never been lonely before; her training schedule left no time for her to be with anyone besides Scott most of the time, which meant no time to properly make friends other than those at Arctic Edge or longtime childhood friends.

But even her skating friends were too consumed in their sport to fill her days with anything but small talk and her nights with anything but parties where everyone was too drunk to understand their interactions.

And when she did have time to hang out with her best friends, it was only one weekend every month or two or three. 

It was lonely, but a different kind.

At least she still had Scott then.

Now, she doesn’t even have him.

It’s so peculiar, she finds, how vastly different her life is in the absence of what she once knew as a constant in her life. 

She’s happy for him, so damn happy for him. She wanted this for him, wanted him to continue on and be the best in the world and win medals and grow insanely famous and everything else that he deserves so much.

But god does she ever miss him.

Tessa is sitting on her bed, wrapped in her white comforter, a steaming mug of coffee on her nightstand and _ Breaking Dawn _ in her hands.

These books are awful, but she has to know how it all ends.

She thanks every saint that this is the last book.

The house is oh so quiet, lacking the soft voices that normally fill the spaces between each of its walls. The hum of the furnace clicking on and her occasional snicker or scoff pierce the soundless air as they come.

She’s home alone, as per usual; her parents are at work, and Jordan’s at school, studying for some upcoming tests.

As much as she wants to just stay in and force herself to finish this book, she really wants to go out.

But not alone.

She supposes she could call on her old friends, the ones that she hasn’t spoken to in about a year, and reconnect with them. 

But they’ve probably forgotten about her by now. 

Maybe she could ask Jordan to take a break from her studying later and go shopping or go to the movies or just drive around or even just sit with and watch _ The Notebook _with her because Scott got her the DVD for Christmas but she hasn’t watched it yet. 

But she doesn’t want to bother her.

She’s been really stressed lately for this one specific upcoming exam that Tessa can’t quite remember the name of. 

Stressed Jordan is _ not _ a force to be reckoned with, and Tessa thinks that even _ attempting _to pull her away from her school work would only make things worse.

But then, an idea dances its way into her head: maybe Tessa should be doing the same. 

Not as in stressing herself out.

Not intentionally, anyway.

But rather, going back to school.

She attempted to start her Psychology degree last year at the University of Windsor, but between her training schedule and constant travelling to competitions, she didn’t complete enough credits to finish even one year. 

She has a handful of half-complete courses that she could one hundred percent be finishing right now instead of reading a book series she couldn’t care any less for. 

Maybe she could go back. 

After all, she has the time to do so.

As much as she loves being home alone and doing nothing all day, making up for the years of constant busyness pulling her limbs taught and pushing her through absolute hell, Tessa can’t ignore that itch within her that tells her she _ needs _ to do something, _ anything _. Though she deserves the break, going from having every hour of her day carefully curated and filled with activity to having no structure nor things to do is a shock to her bones.

She could transfer to the University of Western Ontario, which is so much closer to home than Windsor.

She could finish up the remainder of those first-year courses over the summer so she can begin all of the second-year ones in September.

It’s doable.

If she plays her cards right, and works her ass off this year, she could graduate in three years. 

And it sounds exactly like what she needs right now.

“You want to go back to school?”

On one of Scott’s rare times off during the late spring where he was back home for a couple of days, he and Tessa decided that they would spend it together.

They’re currently finding happiness in a booth at a small, family-owned breakfast restaurant in the core of London to start their day.

Of course, Tessa’s ordered the Classic Breakfast Plate, complete with lightly toasted brown bread with raspberry jam, two sausage links, two pieces of bacon, home fries, and a generous portion of scrambled eggs.

Scott went for some Mediterranean chicken panini that Tessa doesn’t think he likes based on how slowly he’s been eating it. He’s mostly been focused on devouring his home fries in between tiny bites of his sandwich.

“Yeah. I think so,” she replies shyly. She isn’t sure why she feels so weird telling him about her plans.

She used to tell him _ everything _.

But now she feels uncomfortable telling him about _ school _?

Tessa shakes the feeling.

Maybe she’s just having an off-day.

“That’s awesome!” Scott exclaims. “I say go for it.”

“I don’t know…I’m just terrified I won’t be able to handle it or something. Or maybe it isn’t what I want anymore. Or I’ll fail all my classes because I’ve forgotten what they’re like. Or—”

“You’re, like, the smartest person I know. You had a 3.6 GPA in the classes you started taking last year, and that was while you were already consumed with skating. Imagine how good you’ll be now that school’s all you have to focus on. It’ll be insane.” Scott takes a large bite of his panini, speaking again with his mouth full, words consequently muffled. “You’ll easily get that perfect 4.0. They’ll be handing you scholarships and opportunities left, right and center. Maybe you’ll even get your name on a plaque if that’s something they do, I don’t really know.”

“You really think so?” Tessa questions, confidence lacking in her voice as she picks at her eggs, avoiding looking at Scott.

“I know so,” he says surely, panini still in his mouth.

She looks up and smiles at him, and he tries to mirror her around the sandwich between his cheeks.

When a few more seconds pass by of definite uncomfortable chewing, Tessa tilts her head towards Scott.

“Are you gonna...swallow your food? Or…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves a hand in dismissal, though he looks absolutely disgusted.

“Scott?”

“Mhm?” He looks pained.

She raises a brow at Scott, and that seems to break him, his head shaking side to side.

Tessa holds out her paper napkin across the booth, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation as Scott immediately spits the remnants of his sandwich into it. 

“I don’t know why I took that big of a bite.”

She closes her eyes and rubs her temples. “You are literally a child. I can’t believe you’re 21. I really can’t.”

“Ouch.” Scott clutches his chest in fake hurt, and Tessa rolls her eyes.

“Why don’t you just order something else?” She asks before taking a bite of her second piece of toast.

“What, do you think I have an endless cash supply in my pockets?”

Tessa waves him off. “I’ll pay, it’s fine.”

“No,” Scott says, stealing a homefry off of Tessa’s plate and popping it into his mouth. “You need to save your money for tuition.”

Tessa shakes her head. “20 bucks won’t kill me.”

“You say that but then your tuition will be, like, $7020, you’ll only have $7000, and then you’ll think ‘Ah, shit, I could have had that $20 I need if only I didn’t buy Scott breakfast that one time.’”

She tries not to laugh. “It’s _ fine _. What do you want?”

“Strawberry pancakes, please,” he mumbles, picking at his short nails.

“Mhm.” Tessa smirks at him as she scans the room for their waitress, attempting to make eye contact with her so she could come back to their table.

** _November 22, 2009_ **

With the end of the fall semester quickly approaching, relief is just a fragment of the flurry of emotions Tessa is currently feeling.

There’s also stress. 

A _ lot _ of stress. 

She’s actually been doing well this semester, even with course overload, but not as well as she had hoped. 

She’d rather anything above the 3.6 GPA she’s been sitting at all semester, even just a 3.7. But no matter how hard she tries, it doesn’t budge.

It is a little disheartening to think that her marks are on the same level now that she’s putting her soul into her schoolwork as they were when she was essentially half-assing her assignments while she was still skating.

Tessa thinks that it’s just that she’s struggling with a full-time workload plus the extra course she added to her semester as opposed to the part-part-time she was used to. 

She hopes she can get used to it soon. 

But there are only three weeks left of the semester. Shouldn’t she have gotten used to it by now?

Maybe she’ll never get used to it. 

Well, does anyone get used to it?

Tessa isn’t really sure.

Luckily her classes this semester are somewhat interesting, much more than the first-year courses that she took back in the summer. 

They didn’t even _ relate _ to her program. 

Pointless. 

But now it’s better, and she has more psychology-based courses and even a business one that she took as an elective that she loves.

And she got a job a few weeks ago at Western’s library which she absolutely adores. She’s surrounded by the one thing that allows her to drift away from reality for a while, allows her mind to travel to countless settings that are nothing at all like the situation she’s stuck in. 

Tessa’s job is mostly reshelving the books that other people take off the shelf, usually textbooks and research material. Sometimes she comes across the fiction, her favourite; ones she’s read before, ones on her to-read list, and ones she’s never even heard of before. 

She’s come across the _ Twilight _ books many more times than she would have ever expected (though her estimation was zero).

It makes her laugh. 

It also pains her a little bit; it reminds her of her surgery, the ending of all endings.

But sometimes it makes her veins tingle and the corners of her lips lift in joyful nostalgia when she sees the books and remembers a time when she once shamelessly kissed Scott in a hospital room and he kissed her back. 

Usually, Tessa shakes the memory from her mind just as quickly as it enters. 

But every so often, she allows it to linger just a beat longer, to ignite each individual nerve that snakes throughout her muscles so she can relive the moment once more: a moment without pain, without stress, without sadness, without fear, without barriers. 

It was of reckless flames burning her bones and shooting stars whizzing by, each holding thousands of her wishes in its core. It’s of gospel choirs singing songs of glorious praise in her ears and free falling so quickly down, down, into a mystical place where nothing else matters except her and him.

She keeps the moment sealed securely and secretly in the deepest corner of her brain.

As she’s getting ready for work one morning, Tessa is surprised when her phone begins to ring, her screen glowing with the letters that string together to form Scott’s name. Since the season officially started back up in August, they haven’t been chatting as often as they were in the spring. They still try to talk at least once a week, though; training can be rather intense during the off season, but there’s nothing quite like training during the actual season. 

“Hey!” she greets cheerfully.

He’s in Kitchener for the week for Skate Canada International, his and Alana’s second competition of the season. 

Tessa knows that during a competition, there’s absolutely no time to do anything other than train and practice until you go to sleep.

She has no idea how he’s swung this one.

“Hey Tess.”

“What’s up? Shouldn’t you be practicing right now?” she asks as she cradles the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“I’m just taking a quick break. Chilling in the changeroom. My knee is being stupid.”

Tessa exaggeratedly gasps. “Oh no.”

“‘Oh no’ is right. It’s not awful, like I’m planning not to put pressure on it until the actual competition. But Marina’s noticing that I’m slacking during practice so she’s been on my ass today.”

“Well did you tell her about it?” Tessa attempts to change into her uniform without moving the phone from her ear.

It doesn’t really work.

She resorts to speakerphone for the time being.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Then she’ll be on my ass about that too. I’m already annoyed at her so that’ll make it worse.”

She knits her brows together. “How come?”

“I don’t know, I’m just in that mood. I think it’ll fade away soon.”

Tessa knows that mood in Scott all too well.

Usually it doesn’t fade that fast, though.

“How’s it going with Alana?” she asks, switching her phone off speakerphone and nestling it back in its place as she rummages through her makeup bag, searching for her powder compact.

“Not bad, I guess.”

“That sounds convincing.”

Tessa can tell Scott is thinking about what he wants to say next. “Well, I mean, it is a little rough.”

“Care to elaborate?” 

Scott sighs. “Well, it sucks because we were both pretty well established skaters who were both in the first place spot on the podium two years ago and now we’re literally at the bottom.”

“I wouldn’t consider a seventh place rank ‘the bottom.’ At least you aren’t last.” Tessa moves the phone a little away from her face to pat some foundation on the spot on her cheek.

Scott and Alana placed eighth at Trophée Éric Bompard last month. Tessa considered that to be phenomenal for their first competition together, especially since they had only been paired for half a year. Most teams _ dream _ of breaking the top ten at their first competition.

This season was the first that Tessa’s _ really _ been able to watch figure skating, and she’s really been enjoying it so far. It felt refreshing to see all of the programs, become an armchair judge of the skills and choreographic elements from her desk at home. She’s always wanted to watch all of the events, see the costumes and programs and each skater’s unique flair. But as a competitor, she just never had the time to between all the training and practice. 

And Tessa just couldn’t bring herself to watch any of it last year; it was still too hard for her to. 

But she’s since worked up the nerve for it, mostly just to be able to see Scott and Alana skate.

“Yeah, I guess.” Scott sounds miserable.

“I think as time goes on, you’ll both understand each other better, which will help you skate even better. You’re pretty fresh still. Think about how it was when we first started.”

“We were _ children _.”

“And?” Tessa raises her eyebrows, half in question and half to help her pencil them in a little.

“Alana and I are _ adults _,” he says, annoyed.

“Okay, no need to get defensive. Just because you’re adults doesn’t mean you’ll instantly connect perfectly. Look at how long it took us to get to the top of the podium. The fact that you even got into the top ten for every single one of your programs in your first official season together is insane. Be proud of yourself.”

“It’s just tough, you know?”

Tessa sighs. “I know.” 

“Like...we had it all figured out. Us, I mean. Like, we knew exactly how to work with each other to get the best results and we didn’t even have to _ speak _. Alana and I...we get along great, actually, she kind of reminds me of you which helps. But the connection on ice isn’t there yet. I hate being back at square one.”

“She reminds you of me?” Tessa’s heart simultaneously warms with admiration and cools with something not too far off from jealousy. 

“Yeah. You actually have pretty similar personalities. I think you’d get along really well. I’ll have to introduce you to her at some point.”

“That would be great.” 

She means it.

Tessa resumes her makeup application, carefully applying mascara to her eyelashes until she accidentally hits the mascara-covered tip of the wand off of the bridge of her nose, leaving behind a large black dot. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Tessa waves him off. “Anyway, you’ll get there. You’ll both figure it out. I know it.”

“Yeah?” He sounds almost like a child after you tell them they will amount to something, his voice filled with uncertainty-laced hopefulness.

“One hundred percent,” she emphasises as she carefully wipes the black off of her nose. “I bet you’ll even podium at Sochi. Actually, no, I _ know _ you’ll podium at Sochi. I’m putting it out there. You heard it here first.” 

“That’s a stretch.” He says it as though Tessa were insane.

“It’s only a stretch if you think it is.” 

“Whatever.”

“I want you to say it.”

“What?”

“I want you to say that you will podium in Sochi.” She waves her lip gloss wand around like she’s giving some sort of important speech to her reflection in the mirror.

“We will podium in Sochi,” Scott mumbles, annoyance laced in his voice.

“Pathetic. Again.”

He sighs. “We will podium in Sochi. Tess—”

“_ Again _.”

“We will podium in Sochi.” He says, somewhat confidently.

Tessa accepts it.

“Better.” She presses her lips together to even out the freshly applied gloss.

“Okay, enough about me,” Scott rushes. “How’s school?”

“Not bad,” she replies, making her way downstairs to grab a glass of water.

“Oh, so you made me spill my guts and now you’re gonna give me a two-word answer?”

Tessa laughs. “What else do you want me to say?”

“Like...how are your professors?”

“Good.” She says it more as though it were a question.

“You can’t tell me they’re _ all _ good.”

“Honestly, they are. I got really lucky I guess. Some of my friends have some awful profs.” Tessa fills a glass, throwing in a straw to prevent ruining her lip gloss as she takes a long sip

“Fuck any of them for good grades?”

And then the water in Tessa’s mouth is being spit into the sink, where she was quite lucky to be standing near. “Scott!”

“Just wondering.”

“_ No _.”

“You can tell me, you know.”

“I _ don’t _.” She states firmly.

“Mhm.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

Tessa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I gotta go to work.”

“Work...right. Just like I need to go ‘train.’”

“But…you do…have to go train?”

Scott laughs. “Yeah, Marina’s been yelling at me from outside of the changeroom pretty much thirty seconds after I got in here.”

“Wait, so you aren’t on break?” she questions, her brow raised in confusion as she puts her glass in the dishwasher.

“Nah. I actually just said I was getting some water.”

Tessa pulls the phone away from her ear to check the call time. “We’ve been on the phone for almost 15 minutes!”

“Well, I didn’t say how much water I was getting.”

“Scott!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going,” he rushes before yelling that he’s coming to Marina.

“You better be, Marina’s gonna kill you.”

“She would never. She loves me too much.”

“I hate that that’s true.”

“You’re just jealous.”

It’s no secret that Marina’s always liked Scott more than Tessa, and Scott would use that to his advantage to tease her.

“Okay, first of all, _ ouch _, second, GO.”

“Okay, okay. Catch you another time,” the sound of a zipper accompanies his voice.

“You got it.”

“You’ll be watching us skate later, right?” he asks.

Tessa smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Have you seen our last two skates?”

“Yes, Scott, I have. But seriously, like I’ll call you later or something. Go.”

“Sweet. Au revoir.”

During her lunch break, Tessa turns on her laptop and tunes in to one of the broadcasts to watch Scott and Alana skate their free dance, as promised.

She truly loves watching the duo skate, seeing all the minuscule improvements each time they step onto the ice: the minor choreographic changes they make, the increase in energy and togetherness, the gradual improvements on certain elements, that effortless flow that comes with them becoming more comfortable with each other on the ice. 

She enjoys picking out minor flaws that they need to work on as well, like the synchronicity of their twizzles and the slight off-ness of their lines at certain points, which she’ll bug Scott about later.

But it all still brings about a certain pain deep in her chest, one that she wishes would just go away.

It is still a little hard for her to process, the fact that he’s out there without her, even after two whole competitions.

It wasn’t as tough when Scott and Alana first partnered up, Tessa thinks, because she never physically _ saw _ them skate together. 

Sure, she’d hear stories from Scott, but it wasn’t the same as actually seeing the two of them step onto ice, hearing the announcer say their names, watching them glide and spin, feeling their chemistry.

It really should be her skating there with him.

If it was, they would have without a doubt been going to the Olympics in February.

Held in Vancouver this time around, Tessa and Scott were willing to do anything to secure themselves a spot on Team Canada because, really, when would they ever get a chance to skate in their _ home country _ at the _ Olympics _ ever again?

But now, neither of them would get the chance.

Scott and Alana won’t qualify for Team Canada this year; they’re good, but still not good enough.

And Tessa, well, Tessa won’t ever qualify.

It definitely sucks.

No, it’s _ worse _ than ‘sucks’.

It’s fucking shitty.

Why couldn’t her legs have put up with just another season?

Then, they could have gone to the Olympics, skated their hearts out for their country, probably even gotten a place on the podium, and _ then _ Tessa could have properly retired from skating.

What better way to go out after the Olympics? After getting a bronze medal, or maybe even a silver or gold, after making every single Canadian soul proud, after that short burst of fame that would come with being among the best, if not _ the _ best skaters around the world.

It would have been absolutely remarkable.

But no, she was betrayed right in the middle of the quad.

She supposes that the way she had to leave wasn’t exactly the worst: their free dance to the _ Umbrellas of Cherbourg _ soundtrack from their last season was probably her favourite to date, and it won them their first gold medals as senior competitors. She’s glad that it could at least end like this.

But the Olympics would have without a doubt been better.

Tessa tries not to think about it too much, about all the what ifs and could have beens. It’s hard sometimes though, especially as she sits quietly in the corner of the library, hidden behind the bookshelves as she watches Alana and Scott skate their beautiful free dance set to Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 

They’re both so graceful on the ice, so elegant and beautiful.

They’re truly _ incredible _.

Tessa misses that feeling of incredible, of nailing each element of a program, of feeling like there’s no one else in the rink but her and Scott, of that ecstasy she would feel in that end pose as the arena claps and cheers. 

When Tessa checks the final rankings after work, her heart swells with pride to see that Alana and Scott have come in fourth place.

Tessa meets Alana for the first time the following day, a few days before she and Scott have to return to Canton to train for the upcoming Canadian Championships.

Scott was right; they _ do _ have a lot in common. 

And she’s absolutely stunning: golden, almond-shaped eyes; pin-straight, jet-black hair that fell just below her shoulders; freckles splayed carelessly across her smooth, latte-hued skin; and that small yet curvy figure that Tessa always wanted.

And if it wasn’t for her wreathing envy, Tessa is certain that she and Alana could be best friends. 

Maybe they are, in another life, where team Virtue and Moir never died.

** _March 20, 2010_ **

Tessa studies her closet, much like she has been for the last fifteen minutes.

Nothing seems good enough.

How fancy is too fancy?

How casual is too casual?

It’s driving her nuts.

She has a date tonight with Chris Langstaff, a guy in her social psych lecture this semester that she has been sort of unofficially going out with for the last month.

Tessa finds it funny that two of the biggest changes in her life revolved around figure skating, the more heartbreaking change being her departure from amateur skating.

But this one, a much better one by far, was meeting Chris.

It was on a shitty Monday evening mid-February where the weather absolutely sucked but classes weren’t cancelled, and Tessa had essentially pulled an all-nighter to finish a statistics assignment that she forgot was due at 10 AM that day.

She took a short, two-hour nap before coming to class, but it just made her feel groggy.

She was absolutely miserable.

Not even her coffee was making anything better.

She sat near the back of the lecture hall that day to avoid being called on by the professor, because god knows she wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

And this way, if she didn’t pay attention to whatever spiel the professor was going off on and just watched the Men’s Singles event at this year’s Olympics in Vancouver instead, she wouldn’t get called out for it.

It was starting in about 20 minutes, so Tessa only had to suffer through a little bit of her professor’s talking.

It was just one of those days where Tessa would rather be anywhere else, and she’s sure she would have been if attendance didn’t account for nearly a quarter of her grade.

And when some guy came into the lecture hall nearly half an hour late, sitting quietly in the vacant seat to her right, saying she was annoyed would be an incredible understatement. She was pretty sure there were other empty seats this guy could have chosen, but no, he _ had _ to come sit here, forcing her to shift around the belongings she had piled in front of the seat.

But her aggravation diminished as soon as he opened his laptop, her eyes falling on the two separate windows the screen was split into: a Microsoft Word document to take notes and a broadcast of none other but the Men’s Singles event at the Vancouver Olympics. 

And when she looked over to see who the device’s owner was, she was surprised to find that the man was pretty damn attractive.

He had dirty blonde hair that was longer on the top of his head than it was on the sides and dark glasses which framed his face so perfectly, almost like a finish touch to the rarest piece of art.

The man’s angular jaw was clenched in concentration as the current skater neared the end of his performance.

Even in sweatpants and a faded Adidas hoodie, Tessa decided right then and there that she was absolutely, utterly infatuated with him.

Who would have known that her fucking awful day would lead to this?

He didn’t know she was staring at him, and she didn’t realize she was staring at him, until he turned to glance at the large clock on the wall to the left of them, which caused both of them to jump in surprise.

She remembers apologizing repeatedly, definitely sounding like a complete fool. He was saying it was fine and whatever and Tessa was almost certain she blew it.

But then he noticed her screen, identical to his,.

The conversation rolled quickly from there, earlier events forgotten in favour of strengthening this newfound connection for the remaining hour and a half of the class. 

She learned his name was Chris.

He looked like a Chris.

She told him that, not aware that she was thinking aloud, but he laughed and said that he always thought he looked more like a Derek.

Though slightly embarrassed, she laughed too.

The professor dismissed the hall early, so Chris had asked her if she wanted to finish watching the remaining half-hour of the event over some cups of coffee.

It was late, almost 9 PM, and Tessa’s mind was telling her that it needed sleep.

But her heart screamed for her to go.

It was obvious where she was going to go.

The duo got together to watch the rest of the Olympic figure skating events over the next week, both of them conveniently not in classes during broadcast hours. They would usually meet in the library where it was quietest, sitting on the stupid, brightly patterned bean bag chairs tucked away in the corner behind the towering non-fiction shelves, critiquing each performance and even each other’s opinions.

It was one of the best weeks of Tessa’s life.

She had never had someone to do this with, not even Scott.

It was nice.

Even after the closing ceremony of the Games, they continued to hang out with each other, whether it be to study or work on assignments or just to talk. They would go out for coffee or to the campus bar for drinks, eventually throwing casual dinner dates into the mix when Tessa got a little drunk and a little gutsy one night and asked him out to dinner.

He said yes, of course.

But tonight is the first time going out has required more formal attire, something so different from the jeans and t-shirts Tessa usually throws on. It makes her feel nervous in a way, even though she knows she has absolutely nothing to be nervous about.

It was Chris’ turn to pick what they did for their date today (they unintentionally took turns choosing what to do and who paid for what; it just ended up happening that way). He’s been keeping their destination a secret, simply implying that it’s somewhere ‘fancy’ and that he would cover the bill.

Tessa finally decides on a black, long-sleeved fitted dress that she doesn’t think she’s ever worn before. She loves the thin, gold belt that goes with it, a shiny contrast to the dark outfit.

She thinks that she’ll probably just curl her hair and braid a bit of the front and pin it back, a hairstyle she does so often that it’s probably her signature look at this point. But it’s easy and looks pretty and Chris is picking her up in half an hour and she still has to do her makeup on top of that.

So for the next thirty minutes, Tessa rushes to get ready, a process that she would normally give herself at least an hour to do.

But, she manages to do it all successfully within the short time frame, only burning herself _ twice _ with the curling iron (usually it’s around five, and that’s when she takes her time).

Tessa is just finishing the application of her lipstick when the doorbell rings.

Perfect timing. 

When she opens the door, Tessa’s legs weaken immediately at how goddamn delicious the sight in front of her is.

She’s never seen him dressed up before: the pale blue dress shirt that adorns his body is fitted in a way that still allows her to see the outline of his muscles, the tapered black pants adding to his appeal.

Chris looks up from his fidgeting hands, eyes widening behind his glasses with astonishment, lips parted.

He studies her for a moment, not in an objectifying or belittling way, but rather in pure admiration for the woman standing in front of him.

“Hi,” she says shyly. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers.

Tessa looks down at her feet, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she feels crimson heat spreading across her cheeks. “Thanks.”

He watches her with a sort of admiration in his eyes as she searches for her black wool coat, wraps a random black scarf around her neck (maybe it’s Jordan’s?), and grabs her purse.

“Okay. Good to go,” she announces.

He holds out his hand for her, and she takes it as she steps out into the crisp spring air with him.

Once they’re both seated in the car, conversation between them arises naturally for the fifteen minute drive to the restaurant, the five minutes it takes to find parking, and only breaks when Chris tells the host that they have reservations. It’s packed tonight, as expected for a Saturday night, the atmosphere buzzing with countless discussions.

The place is stunning; Tessa’s never been, though it’s one place she’s always wanted to come to eat at. She never really has because of how expensive she found the menu to be, and because she never had anyone to come with.

Now, she does.

The interior is dimly lit, large, spherical lamps hanging from the ceiling at different heights.

They look like miniature suns.

The decor is elegant without being over-the-top; a classic, minimalistic aesthetic that almost feels comfortable. The chestnut hardwood floor works well with the nearly black walls and black furniture, a mixture of circular and rectangular tables and cushioned iron chairs.

There are plants scattered around the space, some tall with branches reaching out towards the little floating suns, and some shorter, with leaves that sway in the breeze created by those who walk past. The green is a stunning contrast against the darker features.

Tessa is certain that her jaw has been on the floor throughout their entire journey to their seats at a round table by a large, floor-to-ceiling window.

“This place is gorgeous,” she states once they’re settled, scanning the menu.

Chris shrugs, face serious. “Meh. Not as great as I was expecting.”

“What?” Tessa snaps her gaze up to the man sitting across from her.

He tries to remain in character, but quickly breaks into laughter. “Just kidding, it’s pretty damn cool.”

She laughs too.

“What made you decide to pick this place?” Tessa can’t help but be a little bit curious.

“You mentioned it a while back, how much you wanted to come here. I don’t remember what the conversation was, but I kept it in mind. I told myself that I’d take you here one day when the time was right.”

_ When the time was right _.

Does that mean what she thinks it means?

Tessa begins to panic, her brain flicking on the emergency switches and sounding the sirens.

She tries to ignore it.

Why is she even panicking? This is _ good _.

She needs to start talking again before she starts to lose her mind.

“You remembered that?” she says softly. 

“Of course.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly.

Tessa smiles, returning to her menu.

“Do you know what you’re gonna get?” Chris asks after a couple of minutes.

She studies the list of food in front of her, pouting. “I have no idea. What about you?”

“I’m honestly thinking I’m going to be basic and go with the steak,” he replies.

“Maybe I’ll do that too. Or else I’ll be here forever trying to figure something out.

Chris laughs as the waiter approaches the table. He orders two plates of t-bone steaks with roasted potatoes and vegetables and water for himself, and Tessa asks for a glass of red wine.

Once the waiter leaves, Chris turns back to face Tessa and gives an impressed nod. “Red wine. Extra fancy.”

“I’ll give you the money for the drink. It’s way too much money on top of the dinners.”

He waves his hand. “It’s fine.”

“Chris,” she says sternly.

“Tessa,” he matches her serious tone.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Do you have to be difficult all the time?”

“Only with you,” he teases, winking at her. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Tessa smiles up at him. “Yeah.”

As soon as Chris is out of sight, Tessa ungracefully fishes for her purse under the table. After what feels like years, she finally finds it, whipping it onto her lap and hastily unzipping to look for her phone.

It would probably make more sense for her to text Jordan, but there’s another person she’d much rather talk to right now.

T:_ Help _

A few seconds pass without a reply, and Tessa grows impatient.

T:_ Help _

Still no reply.

T: _ Help _

S: _ Are you okay???? _

Third time’s a charm.

Although, maybe three was too many.

_ *Incoming call from Scott Moir* _

S: _ T??????? _

_ *Incoming call from Scott Moir* _

S:_ I’m going to call 911 if you don’t answer _

T: _ Maybe if you stopped interrupting my typing with your calls I could respond _

T:_ I think this guy is gonna ask me to be his girlfriend _

S:_ What _

Right.

Scott doesn’t know about Chris.

But she doesn’t have time to explain it all right now.

T: _ This guy I’ve been seeing for the last few weeks. We’re on a date right now, he’s in the washroom I think, blah blah not important _

T: _ But what is important is that I’m pretty sure he’s gonna ask _

It takes a little while for a response to come through, and Tessa’s pretty sure he’s laughing at her right now.

She’s starting to realize how ridiculous she sounds.

S: _ Is that a bad thing _

T: _ No _

S: _ You really like this guy _

Tessa doesn’t even have to think about her answer.

She’s pretty sure she _ loves _ Chris, but no one needs to know that just yet.

Especially not Scott.

T:_ Yeah _

S:_ If he did ask, what would you say _

T:_ Yes _

S:_ So you do want to be his official girlfriend _

T: _ I guess _

S:_ Soooooo what’s the issue _

What _ is _ the issue?

Tessa doesn’t even know.

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

_ T: I don’t know. _

T: _ I’m just realizing how idiotic I must sound to you _

S:_ Don’t worry, you’ve had much worse moments _

Tessa snorts involuntarily, earning the attention of a couple sitting close by.

S: _ Just saying, I thought you were dying _

T:_ Sorry _

S: _ It’s fine. Just relax. It’ll only be weird if you make it weird _

S: _ And obviously this guy likes you so _

T: _ How do you know? _

S: _ Just taking a guess _

S:_ But I won’t hesitate to beat him up if he hurts you, remember that _

T:_ LOL alright, I don’t think he will though _

When Tessa looks up, she can see Chris rounding the corner to make his way back to their table.

T:_ Okay he’s coming back _

T:_ I’m gonna die _

S:_ Just breathe _

And Tessa does just that.

Breath in.

Breath out.

T: _ Thanks _

S: _ Let me know what happens _

When Chris sits back in the seat opposite her, they relaunch into conversation about midterms and winter break and what they were going to do next weekend as their food arrives.

Tessa can’t help but be on edge, waiting for the pin to drop.

But eventually, she completely forgets about it.

Time passes quickly, as it always unfortunately seems to when Tessa’s with Chris. Soon it’s quarter to 11 PM, and the restaurant is trying to politely tell customers to finish their meals and leave as they’re closing in fifteen minutes.

“Oh gosh, we’ve really been here for almost two and a half hours?” Chris laughs as he checks his watch.

“It has _ not _felt that long.”

“Not at all.”

Chris shifts in his seat a little. “This is a long shot, but would you want to come back to my place for a bit? I know you probably have assignments and stuff to work on and—”

Tessa smiles. “I’d love to.”

Chris runs his hand through his hair, a boyish grin on his face. “Great.”

They put their jackets on, Chris holding out a hand for Tessa to hold as they leave the restaurant. They walk in comfortable silence, their shadows dancing on the sidewalk beneath them as they try to hide from the bright storefront signs.

About halfway to his car, Chris slows his pace, bringing them to a complete stop underneath a lamp post.

Tessa looks over at him in confusion, her head tilted in question as he clears his throat. 

She moves herself to stand in front of him, keeping her hand in his.

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t really know how to start, so I’ll just dive right into it. I think you’re so, so, great, by far one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. You make everyone feel so...important, just by looking at them. It’s crazy. I don’t know how you do it. And I love how smart you are and how when you’re really interested in something, you tilt your head a little to the right. I love how you manage to always look beautiful?” He laughs. “I guess I’m just saying that I like you. A lot. And meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Is that cheesy?”

She smiles, looking shyly down at her feet and shaking her head. “Not at all.”

“And I think you like me too?”

She finds his other hand and takes it into hers.

“You’re correct.” She smiles up at him.

She wonders if he can hear how loud her heart is pounding right now, rattling her ribcage and setting her veins on fire.

“Would I also be correct if I said that you would maybe want to officially be my girlfriend?”

“Only if that means you can officially be my boyfriend.” She pokes him playfully in his chest.

“Oh, is that how it works?” He raises a brow, taking a step towards her.

Tessa laughs softly, closing the gap between them. “I hope so.”

They stand there silently, green eyes locked on brown, still as statues under the bright night, blissfully unaware of the locals hurrying by to get to wherever they’re going at this time of night. 

And then he kisses her for the first time.

He’s gentle with her, allowing his hands to release hers and instead hold her hips as though they were the most precious gemstones in the world. He takes his time exploring her mouth like some part of it held buried treasure, and she lets him.

Tessa wishes she could stay in this moment forever, shackled in the embrace of the man she loves, their lips performing a heavenly pas de deux for an audience that consists solely of the two of them.

When they pull apart, he rests his forehead against hers, and she closes her eyes in an attempt to slow her breathing.

Chris laughs. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

His remark makes Tessa smile. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Never.” He shakes his head, a shy grin forming on his face as they begin to walk the rest of the way to the car.

Tessa’s heart twizzles and spins around each of her ribs on the drive back to Chris’ place.

When Tessa returns home, she immediately calls Scott to update him on her shiny new title of _ Chris’ Girlfriend _, her head so high in the clouds.

He picks up on the final ring, just as Tessa is sure it’s going to go to voicemail.

“Tess! How was your date?” His flat expression lacks the contentment the remark suggests. 

It makes her uneasy, how different his tone is compared to the way he was texting her earlier, but she pushes it aside. 

It _ is _ rather late, with Tessa and Chris’ dinner having lasted much longer than anticipated (or, what they did _ after _their dinner), so maybe he was just tired. 

Tessa knew that _ she _was exhausted just from going out, so she knew that Scott probably felt even shitter since he was training that morning.

“It was good! Things went...um…” she coughs. “Really well?” Her voice raises three octaves. 

“Gross,” he mumbles. He’s rummaging through something or moving something around on his end, and it’s loud in her ear. She pulls the phone away from her ear slightly.

“But I didn’t even—”

“I can practically hear you blushing through the phone.” Scott says it as though it were some sort of fact that everyone should know, like it were the common sense that Tessa lacked.

“Oh my god.” Tessa brings her free hand to her face.

“So I take that as you two being an official thing now?”

“Um...yeah.” She feels strange admitting it, almost embarrassed, maybe.

She doesn’t really know why.

“Nice.”

“Yeah.”

The line falls silent and for a moment Tessa thinks Scott hung up. But then his rummaging resumes, louder this time.

“What are you doing?” She questions, wanting nothing more than for him to stop whatever he’s doing and at least act like he’s paying attention to her.

“Eh, nothing,” he says. He sounds like his mind is anywhere but here.

“You’re making all that noise for nothing?”

“Precisely.”

He rummages some more, and Tessa feels like she’s going to lose her fucking mind if he doesn’t stop. So, she tries to change the subject.

“So, um, how was training today?” She interjects, and the noise stops.

About damn time.

Scott sighs. “Eh, same old, same old, you know?”

Tessa pretends she knows exactly what he’s talking about, despite having no idea what Scott and Alana’s training days actually look like. Sure, she remembers what hers and Scott’s were like, but no two couples have the exact same training. It just doesn’t work that way. 

Plus, after an entire year together, Tessa knows for a fact that the way Scott and Alana train now is nothing like how they did one year ago.

She doesn’t know why he isn’t elaborating.

She tries to convince herself it’s just his exhaustion.

“Yep. How’s Alana?”

“She’s g—”

“Are you mad at me?” Tessa blurts then, immediately wishing she could take it back.

Why would he be mad at her?

She feels stupid now.

Scott’s voice instantly softens. “What? T, what would I be mad at you for?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “You just, I don’t know, seem weird tonight.”

“I’m just tired, T. I’m sorry. I promise I’m not mad.”

“No, yeah, I understand. Sorry.” Tessa picks at the stitching of her comforter until a thread comes loose. 

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She isn’t really sure what to respond with, and she isn’t sure _ what _ she can say with the growing tightness in her throat. So, she musters a simple: “Okay.”

Every second of silence that follows is another that Tessa pulls at the loose thread, unstitching more and more of the fabric until a large part of the top of the comforter is completely open, white thread unravelled in her hands.

She’ll fix it tomorrow.

“I’ll tell you what,” Scott finally says. “How about we both get some much-needed rest, I’ll call you in the morning, you can tell me all over again—include all the details you want—and I’ll be much less cranky.”

“You really want to hear the details?” she questions mischievously.

Scott makes a fake puking sound. “God, no, that’s not what I meant. Not _ all _ the details. Keep it PG please.”

Tessa laughs, a real laugh. “You got it.”

There’s a bit of a pause, one that feels unnaturally long to Tessa, before he finally says: “Goodnight, Tess.”

“Goodnight.”

Scott does call her in the morning and allows Tessa to talk for half an hour straight about her night, beginning from the moment Chris picked her up and ending the moment they decided to go back to his place. 

Tessa is sure that he’s listening to every word she says based on the way he interjects every so often to ask questions or clarify things or share his input. He even asks when he’ll be able to meet the guy who’s lucky enough to be with his best friend. 

There’s still something off, something that tells her that he doesn’t seem completely _ here _, but Tessa doesn’t dwell on it.

She concludes that the previous night was likely just an off-night for Scott. She remembers the way she felt at the end of a long training day, wanting nothing more than to ignore the words directed at her and dive into a deep sleep. 

So, the fact that he at least _ attempted _to speak to her yesterday makes her happy. 

But what Tessa fails to realize is that Scott not being fully present in this conversation is just the beginning of his uncontrollable, snowballing retreat into himself.

Chris was the second significant happening in Tessa’s life that she hadn’t told Scott about, failing to even acknowledge it after the fact.

The first, her surgery.

Tessa thought nothing of these, though; she figured that Scott wouldn’t care about her surgery since they weren’t exactly on good terms, and with Chris that it wasn’t a big deal. It was just a guy, and things weren’t serious. She probably would have told him eventually if she didn’t text him yesterday night. She just didn’t want to bother him with that stuff. Do guys truly enjoy listening to a girl talk about another guy with them?

Tessa doesn’t think so.

She assumes he doesn’t care about all the little details her life, but god, all he could ever care about is her. 

He cares about all of her, every last bit, whether they’re arguing and burning red because of him and his shitty moods or in a good place, the world around them shining like gold in the daylight. 

That’s one thing that will never be perfectly clear to Tessa, who keeps her thoughts reserved and soul barricaded from the entire world: Scott never holds back when it comes to her.

He’s an open book, telling her the answers to every question dancing in that messy mind of hers. 

So, Tessa refraining from telling him about not one, but two major life events was beyond painful.

It was Scott’s breaking point.

But like many other things that happen between them, they never talk about it; they don’t talk about Scott’s distance or mood or treatment of Tessa, about Tessa’s secrecy or way of thinking or inability to open up, about their _ feelings _.

No, they just resort to talking less.

The air around them grows heavy as the list of words left unsaid multiplies, its weight becoming so unbearable that it forces a distance between them; phone calls less frequent, texts short and dry, the thought of spending time together nowhere within grasp.

How can you fix something if you don’t understand what caused it to break?

Tessa ponders this question nearly every waking moment of her life for days and months and years on end, frustrated over her incompetence to discovering the answer to this godforsaken puzzle.

But one thing she never thinks is to ask Scott to help her find it.

** _December 25, 2010_ **

Tessa absolutely adores Christmas. 

It’s her favourite time of year, when the snow falls to the earth like powdered sugar and coloured lights glow like stars strung across the streets and the house smells like pine and sugar cookies. 

The only difference between Christmas now and Christmas two years ago is that now, she’s actually home for Christmas. 

Before, she and Scott were usually either in Canton or away at a competition for the holiday. The duo would spend the day in one of their hotel rooms unwrapping the small gifts they would buy each other and eating whatever they could get with room service while watching marathons of those old, corny kids’ Christmas movies on TV. 

At some point, they would phone home and talk to their families and whoever else was around, but it just wasn’t the same as being physically present with everyone; sitting at the table around what is always way too much food, surrounded by bubbly laughter and sparking lights, stories of before kids were born, jokes that morph into playful debates over glasses of wine and champagne. 

Christmas was home. 

Christmas away was just lonely.

But both Tessa and Scott knew that they would have to sacrifice it if they wanted to be the best. 

So, that’s what they did. 

It was nice, at least, to have each other at Christmas.

But Tessa can’t help but think about how all the sacrifice was for absolutely nothing; where did the move away from family, the missed events and birthdays and holidays, the sleepless nights, the excruciating pain, the exhaustion from training, get her?

It got her to the end of her skating career. 

But perhaps it wasn’t all that bad. 

After all, it lead her to the life she has now.

Now she has Chris, and she gets to be home every single day and spend more time with her mother and sister. Plus, she’s co-captain of Western’s dance team and her GPA is going nowhere but up.

Things are going pretty well.

Tessa’s just finished her exams for the fall semester, and she’s fairly confident that she did well on them. 

Her third-year courses are proving to be a lot more challenging than the first two, which has left Tessa feeling astronomical amounts of stress.

Now she understands why Jordan was so snappy and isolated when she was in school. 

But now it’s Christmas and the stress has almost completely disappeared because Tessa’s sole focus for today is on Kate and Jordan and Kevin and Casey. 

Lying in bed in the red and green striped pyjama set that she only wears on Christmas Eve, Tessa’s well aware that her brothers should be arriving at the Virtue home soon for their annual Christmas Day breakfast, or rather, brunch, as it’s become; the men spend the earlier portion of the morning with their own respective families, and the women get to sleep in a few extra hours. 

Usually, Kevin and Casey will come alone (“So it’s just us Virtues, just like when we were kids,” Kevin had said once when Jordan had questioned why they hadn’t brought their wives) so Tessa doesn’t worry about needing to get dressed or do her hair and makeup. Even Jordan and her mother often remain in their pyjamas, and Kevin and Casey arrive in some sort of loungewear too. 

Tessa sees it as a waste of time to dress up for people who have seen her at her absolute worst. 

But, besides that, they’re family. 

The dressing up comes later for the dinner, where _ everyone _will be there. 

Chris is coming too.

It _ might _ be a disaster; it’s the first time he’s meeting the rest of her family. 

He knows Kate and has interacted with Jordan sparingly, but that’s the safe space, home plate.

Her brothers…a different story.

But she’ll deal with that later.

So, for now, Tessa kicks off her thick comforter and slowly slides out of bed, her body like molasses dripping to the ground. 

She attempts to make herself just slightly more presentable, fixing her bun and washing her face before heading downstairs to start preparing for her brothers’ arrival. She doesn’t think her mother is awake yet, but Tessa can at least start doing some things that don’t require the oven.

She doesn’t need to be starting fires today.

Now that Jordan has her own place this year, it’s just Tessa and Kate putting the morning together, with Tessa taking over what used to be her sister’s duties in addition to her own. She’ll probably be setting the table, plating the food, making everyone’s drinks, filling the syrup container, putting out condiments and spreads, and whatever else Kate needs her to do.

But when she reaches the main floor, she’s confused to see the table complete set with fancy cloth napkins instead of paper ones, a wide spread of fresh sliced bread, ham, scrambled eggs, fruit salad, and a stack of candy-cane-shaped pancakes. The smell of chocolatey peppermint fills the air, and Tessa assumes it’s peppermint hot cocoa. 

All the same things that they normally have.

But it’s only 9:45 AM, fifteen minutes before everyone wakes up and actually _ starts _ doing anything.

If Kate wanted to have everything done earlier, why didn’t she just wake Tessa up?

Tessa’s confusion is replaced with happiness at the sight of her brothers in the kitchen, silently arguing over who will wash the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

They look ridiculous, though; Kevin is wearing what looks like Santa’s red suit in pyjama form, and Casey has on a green set that’s covered in prints of candy canes.

Tessa has to admit that she was worried that they would show up in regular clothes, but she’s so glad that that wasn’t the case.

She simply stands under the archway to the kitchen until Casey finally notices her. 

“Look, man. You woke up T.” He waves his hand towards his little sister, in which she takes as an opportunity to do a little curtsy. 

“_ Me? _” Kevin looks genuinely hurt.

“Yeah. You were being loud.” Casey says it as though it were common sense.

Tessa laughs at the two of them. They’re just about twice her age, yet sometimes they act as though they’re half as old as her. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We wanted to surprise you and mom,” Kevin proclaims proudly.

“Aw, really?” Tessa dramatically places her hand over her heart.

“Yeah,” Kevin shrugs, throwing the tea towel he’s holding onto the counter. “We figured we’d do the cooking this year since it’s always you, mom, and Jordan.”

“Although, Jordan got out of it this year. Sneaky bitch.” Casey narrows his eyes.

“You have to give her credit, this is pretty much the first year she hasn’t helped out,” she points out.

Casey contemplates this fact for a moment. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

“Do you want me to wake up mom?” Tessa asks, pointing towards the stairs with her thumb.

Kevin nods. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead. Jordan texted me saying she should be here soon.”

When Tessa makes her way back upstairs towards the Master bedroom, she’s confused to find the door ajar and bed made.

“Mom?” She calls out.

“I’m in here!” The voice comes from one of the vacant guest rooms, the one that she thinks used to be Casey’s.

Inside, Kate is quickly finishing some gift wrapping, adding strips of tape to secure the red wrapping paper to a couple of boxes. She’s pretty sure they’re for her and her siblings, though opening gifts doesn’t take place until after dinner tonight.

“Morning.” Tessa greets her mother with a smile upon entering the room.

Kate looks up for a brief moment, smiling at her daughter before returning to her task. “I was hoping I’d be able to finish these while you were still asleep. Why are you up so early?”

“Couldn’t fall back asleep.” It’s true, technically.

“Alright. If you want, you can go downstairs and start putting some stuff together? I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

Tessa tries to keep herself from giggling. “Yeah, sure.”

And a couple minutes later, when Kate does make her way down the dark, hardwood staircase with the gifts balanced in her hands, she looks even more surprised than Tessa to see all four of her children sitting around the food-filled table. They all beam at her with a youthful light as though they were all children again, transporting her back to years and years ago when her babies were still in fact babies.

Seeing her mother and siblings all around the table—clad in Christmas-themed pyjamas, eyes sparkling with joy, mouths full of food, and obscene laughter echoing within the peppermint-scented walls of this happy place—makes Tessa’s body tingle with a sort of comfort and happiness she hasn’t felt in years.

There’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

“I’ll get it!”

When the doorbell rings that evening, just a few minutes before 6 PM, Tessa knows it’s Chris standing at the door.

And it’s better that she answers it than anyone else in her family as of right now; the last thing she wants is to start the night off in embarrassment.

She’s managed to make herself significantly more presentable than this morning: she’s pulled out a cherry red, a-line dress with long-sleeves that she bought forever ago but has never gotten a chance to wear. Tessa loves how simple it is, void of any glitter that would make the dress look eerily similar to a figure skating costume.

Definitely not the look she wants to go for.

She’s added a thin, black belt to the waistline to pull the entire look together, and she thinks it looks pretty damn good. Her loosely curled hair cascades like moonlit ocean waves down her back, with some of the front curls spilling over her shoulders. Tessa was tempted to braid some of the front pieces back, something she usually does because of how much she dislikes having hair in front of her face, but decided to change it up a little bit.

It makes her look so different.

She can’t tell if she likes it or not.

When Tessa opens the door, her mood is instantly lifted at the sight of Chris, bundled up in a puffy winter jacket, a thick wool scarf, and a toque pulled down over his ears and eyebrows.

The lenses of his glasses are slightly wet from the snow that’s melted on them.

Even looking like a giant marshmallow, he looks adorable.

“Hey!” She smiles. “Come in.”

“Hey, hey.”

Chris’ tan work boots clunk heavily on the floor when he steps into the house. He plants a quick kiss to Tessa’s cheek before removing all the outerwear to reveal what he’s actually wearing for the rest of the night.

He’s kept it simple, just black slacks and a white dress shirt, yet she finds herself practically drooling at the sight of him.

You would think that after nine months together, she would be used to him by now.

Tessa makes her way over to him, seductively wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You look handsome tonight,” she says, voice low.

Chris shrugs. “You look okay, I guess.” 

She drops her hands from his shoulders, taking a step back in mock hurt. “‘Okay I _ guess _?’”

He laughs, sliding a hand around her waist and hugging her tightly into his side.

“Calm down, you know you always look beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tessa rolls her eyes as they walk towards the dining room, stopping occasionally to say hello to family that they run into along the way.

She’s glad that they all just introduce themselves to Chris or shake his hand rather than launch into an unnecessarily long conversation with him, which is what she was afraid of.

At this point, Tessa would love to just be alone with him.

Sitting at the dining table with him before everyone else is seated is the next best thing.

Tessa directs him to the spot where they’ve been unofficially assigned to sit according to Kate. They push their chairs closer together—laughing at the fact that neither of them had told the other they were doing so, yet they both managed to do it—before sitting down. He looks at her then, brown eyes softened, wearing that shy smile she adores oh so much as he holds his hand out under the table. 

She doesn’t hesitate to take it.

They sit in comfortable silence, playing an unintentionally started, lawless game where they attempt to kick each other’s ankles under the table as everyone else begins to get themselves seated around the food.

Finally, Kate makes her way to the table of growling stomachs with the dinner rolls she’s just finished making. She sets them down in their spot on the long table before excitedly clapping her hands together. 

“Okay everyone! Let’s eat!” 

Everyone dives into the meal, bottomless china plates and bowls of the creamiest mashed potatoes, perfectly steamed vegetables (the baby carrots are Tessa’s favourite), sweet candied yams, stuffing, buttery turkey, flavourful salmon fillets, grilled asparagus, and dinner rolls passed around the table.

It’s silent as forks shovel into mouths and knives scrape against plates, aside from the faint Christmas music playing from the stereo in the next room. 

Chris gently taps his thumb on the knuckle of Tessa’s thumb to the beat of each song, taking up drawing lines up and down the side of her hand once his finger grows tired and the growing hum of conversation begins to drown out the melodies.

It makes her shiver.

The room grows louder as Tessa’s relatives talk about their jobs and their lives and politics and that funny thing that happened while they were walking to the grocery store last month that someone else insists is nothing but a tall tale. 

Tessa leans into Chris. “Sorry, my family is crazy.”

Chris shakes his head, quickly shoving something orange into his mouth. “This is what you call crazy? If that’s the case, then you don’t want to meet mine.”

“No way, your parents are so quiet!” 

“That’s because they’re trying to impress you,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“No.” She drags out the ‘o’ in shock.

“Yes.” Chris puts what Tessa now recognizes as a baby carrot into his mouth. “They’re honestly the polar opposite of the way they act around you when they’re with my aunts and uncles. It’s...wild.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“That means they’re good actors then. I’ll let them know they’re doing a good job.”

Chris takes another carrot, and it’s then that she realizes that he’s been taking them from her plate, her carrot pile considerably smaller than when they first began talking. 

Tessa looks down at her plate, then back up at Chris with her eyebrow raised.

He throws his head back in laughter. 

“Oh no, I’ve been caught.”

Tessa shakes her head. “You’re the…” 

She trails off then, not finishing her sentence the way it’s supposed to end: _ worst _. She’s never said it to anyone but Scott before.

It’s their thing. 

Or, _ was _ their thing.

It feels wrong to say it to anyone other than Scott, even if the two of them haven’t gotten the chance to say it lately.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.” 

Tessa tries to say it with a bit of sass, but she thinks it comes out more as a serious statement.

Casey’s voice saves her from across the table.

“So, Chris, do you think we’re crazy yet?”

Everyone laughs, and Tessa is glad that the conversation can be changed. When Chris turns to look at her, laughter in his eyes, she tilts her head as if to reinforce her earlier statement. 

Chris nods towards his girlfriend. “Actually, I think Tess is the only crazy one here.”

Tessa whips her head to look at him. 

“Wooooooow.”

“I strongly agree,” Jordan raises her glass towards Chris from her spot beside Tessa, and he mimics the action, clinking their wine glasses right in front of her.

“You both suck, but especially you.” Tessa pokes Chris’ arm.

Laughter fills the air once more, and Chris lets go of Tessa’s hand to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her into his side. 

Loud chatter resumes, one large conversation naturally morphing into five smaller ones within different sections of the table. 

“Hey, Chris, are you into sports?” Kevin asks from his spot opposite of Tessa and Chris.

Tessa already warned Chris that her family was probably going to ask him countless questions tonight, but he doesn’t seem bothered in any way. 

“Actually, yeah. I’ve hockey, soccer, and baseball since I was a kid. I’ll watch pretty much anything, though.” He pauses, carefully adding, “My guilty pleasure is definitely figure skating.”

“No way, figure skating?” Jordan’s eyebrows rise to her hairline as she leans forward to look at her sister’s boyfriend.

Chris chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t even know how I got into it. I just stumbled on it a couple of years ago and I was hooked.”

“Do you all watch it? I mean, I know Tessa does. That’s how we started talking, actually.”

Tessa knows exactly where this conversation is headed, and she doesn’t like it.

When they first met, Tessa learned that Chris had gotten into figure skating the same season of her surgery, so he had never seen her compete. Hell, he didn’t even _ know _ she skated; she never told him.

And Tessa wanted it to stay that way. 

Her past as a figure skater was a vulnerable part of her life that she hated talking about. 

The last thing she ever wanted was to be vulnerable to anyone other than her family. No one deserved to know her like that—not even Chris—so her only choice was to maintain the poised persona she crafted for herself.

The problem is that she didn’t tell anyone that this was her plan.

Which is why no one is noticing the way she’s silently combusting in her seat. 

Except for Chris. 

He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know that when this conversation is over that she’ll want to go outside and scream for years, but he sees her tense up.

He’s good at that, seeing when Tessa’s just a bit off. 

He reminds her of Scott a little. 

Chris tightens his grip around her, and she looks up at him in silent thanks.

He looks a little confused, likely wondering why talking about figure skating is making Tessa anxious. 

After all, to him, it’s just _ figure skating _.

To Tessa, it’s much more than that.

“Do we watch it? We _ lived _figure skating for years with Tessa!” Jordan laughs, obviously slightly tipsy.

“What do you mean?” Chris is absolutely puzzled, and Tessa wants to hide under the table.

“Tessa, you didn’t tell him?” Kate looks at her daughter, expression puzzled.

“I—”

“Tessa figure skated for 10 years! Ice dance. And she was damn good at it.” Casey beams from across the table with pride.

Tessa wonders if she prays enough, maybe she’ll turn invisible. 

“Um, yeah. I mean, I did skate, I don’t think we were that great—”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t win all those titles for nothing!”

Tessa has no idea who’s speaking anymore. All the voices simply morph into one.

“Uh—”

Chris raises his brow at her in curiosity.

“You’ll need to show him some of your old competition videos!”

It’s then that the table launches into an intense discussion about Tessa’s past as a figure skater and her partnership with Scott and everything that happened between their first competition and their last. 

She sinks a little in her seat.

She feels sick.

Tessa is thankful they don’t bring up her surgery. 

She’s sure that if they did, she would have thrown up. 

It feels like years before the talk dies down and Kate announces that it’s time to clear the table for dessert. Chris stands and holds his hand out to help Tessa up.

“Want to go for a walk?” He whispers in her ear when they’re both standing, tone sympathetic.

She nods. “Yeah.”

Tessa pops into the kitchen to alert Kate of their departure before heading back to the entrance where Chris waits, dressed in his jacket and scarf, toque pulled over his ears. 

Tessa puts on her jacket and boots as they silently head out the door. 

It’s been a good winter this year, the temperatures not too harsh but still cool enough that the white snow sticks to the ground when it falls. 

It’s lightly snowing out right now, the snowflakes clumping together to form irregular shapes as they fall. 

The couple walks slowly together, their gloved hands intertwined as the make their way down to the sidewalk. They don’t have a route in mind as they walk down the street, instead just following where their intuitions tell them to go. 

The world around them looks a little like a distorted Winter Wonderland, though Tessa thinks that she only sees it that way because of how black the winter sky is at 8:36 PM. The street lamps illuminate bits of the dark abyss in front of them, bringing the snow-covered trees and tall, icy snowmen into shadowy focus with each step. Houses are aglow with colourful lights and the cheery lives that live within, each celebrating the night a little bit differently. 

It warms Tessa’s pinkened cheeks just slightly, turning numb from the bone-chilling wind. 

It’s also the wind that freezes the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes, but she has absolutely no idea why she feels that she needs to cry in the first place. 

But one thing’s for sure: she doesn’t think she can cry in front of Chris. She never has, and she isn’t ready for that level of vulnerability. 

Not yet.

Tessa lets out a long breath in hopes of calming her racing mind, watching the air transform into a swirling vapour before her.

“Cold?” Chris’ soft voice cuts into Tessa’s thoughts, pulling back into the real world.

She shrugs. “A little bit.”

“It’s because you’re not wearing pants.” He nods towards her exposed knees.

Tessa laughs. “I really should have put on sweatpants or something.”

“I’d give you my toque, but I don’t want to mess up your absolutely beautiful hair that took you twenty times the amount of time it took me to do mine.” Chris pulls on one of Tessa’s curls, making her giggle.

“Maybe longer. That’s okay though, my hair covers my ears at least.”

“Good point. Take the scarf, then.”

They stop walking so Chris can carefully wrap his scarf around Tessa’s neck, her small face drowning behind the thick material. He laughs at this, trying to push the scarf aside to reveal more of her porcelain skin, gently tracing her jawbone with his icy fingertips. 

His touch makes her pulse spark with electricity, igniting a flame that kisses each inch of her body with warmth.

Their steps unintentionally fall into sync, though they return to mismatched within a few seconds thanks to Chris’ considerably longer legs. The only sound in the atmosphere is the delicate crushing of snow beneath their boots with each step they take.

They begin to slow down as they come to an intersection, and Tessa uses the opportunity to plant a quick kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” Chris asks as he presses the signal button.

“Coming to walk with me.”

He shrugs as the bright crimson hand turns into a ghostly walking man, allowing them to continue on their journey. 

Tessa sighs. “I guess I have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Not really. I could see that you weren’t enjoying that conversation, so it doesn’t seem fair to make you expand on it.”

All Tessa can bring herself to do is nod.

“Besides, I may or may not have already known.”

She stops suddenly in her tracks. “What?”

“When we first met, like, that very first day in social psych, I was trying to figure out why your name sounded so familiar. It drove me nuts for _ days_. I was re-watching the ice dance event from this one competition a few weeks later—I think Trophée Éric Bompard—from the 09/10 season. I can’t remember why I decided on that one, but coincidentally, they had mentioned you in it. A _ lot_. They were comparing you to your old partner’s new partner, and then also comparing the two of you to practically every other team because you were just that good. And they briefly mentioned a surgery, but didn’t really go into detail.”

Tessa thinks back to last year, watching the competitions while trying to write her essays. 

And yeah, she remembers how tough that first broadcast was to watch.

She thinks she started making a tally of every single time her name was mentioned, likely even contemplated turning it into a drinking game, despite it being 11:30 AM.

But she completely forgot about that.

“Right,” Tessa says bitterly. She shakes her head. “Sorry, that sounded rude. Um, but you seemed so confused when everyone was talking at dinner.”

“My parents aren’t the only ones who can act.” He says it in a way that feels like a thousand knives to her side.

Tessa tries to laugh, but it sounds so incredibly fake to her ears.

She just doesn’t feel like laughing.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I watched some of your stuff to see what the hype was. Your free from the 07/08 season was phenomenal, by the way, the one to the _ Umbrellas of Cherbourg _ soundtrack. Probably my favourite program of yours. That Four Continents gold was well deserved. You were incredibly talented, Tessa.”

“Oh god, you watched me skate?” Tessa brings her hands up to cover her face, but he takes them in his and brings them down to swing between them.

“I did. You two were absolutely extraordinary. Probably the best, in my opinion. The best back then, and probably even still the best now. If you still skated, I’m pretty sure you would have easily qualified _ and _ gotten gold back in Vancouver. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my girlfriend.”

Everything that Chris is saying to Tessa should be reassuring, should be making her muscles tingle with pride and her eyes sparkle and her smile glisten in the colourful glow that the Christmas lights cast on the sidewalk.

But instead, it makes her heart sink deep down to the tips of her toes, arteries and veins wrapping themselves around her lungs in the excruciating process in an attempt to rid her body of all its oxygen and close off her throat so she can no longer speak.

“When?” is the only word she can manage to get out with the tiny amount of energy that still courses through her nerves.

She feels exhausted. 

Chris doesn’t speak initially, carefully contemplating what he wants to say. “Pretty much the second after they talked about you at Trophée Éric Bompard.” 

“So you’ve known literally since, what, March? How come you never brought it up?” she’s aware that her tone is a little bit harsh, but she doesn’t have the energy to correct it.

“You never mentioned it. Not once. But when we were watching all the ice dance events at the different competitions last season, I noticed a shift in your mood when it was your former partner’s turn to skate. You...I don’t know...you almost shut down. That was when I figured there was probably something more to it all than just you quitting.”

“Oh.” she chokes on the sound a little, and she hopes it wasn’t too obvious.

“I just didn’t want to reopen an obviously fresh wound, I guess.” He sounds almost regretful.

All Tessa can do is nod in response.

She’s scared that if she speaks, she’ll start crying.

Tessa lets go of one of his hands, beginning to walk again in hopes that Chris will too. 

She looks straight ahead, looking for anything she can focus on besides Chris.

They walk in silence.

“Hey,” he says gently as they come to a stop at a crosswalk. 

Oh god, she’s going to start crying.

Tessa continues to look ahead, searching for constellations in the darkness that lies ahead of them.

“Tessa.” He says her name so gently, with so much care and emotion and _ love_. Tessa could never grow tired of hearing him say her name, the way it rolls off his tongue as though the combination of those five letters are ones that he’s meant to say for the rest of his life. Each letter sounds like paradise on his lips, like each syllable is an invitation for Tessa to call him her home. 

She used to feel at home with Scott too.

On the ice, the push of each blade, left and then right in perfect synchronization, their hands intertwined in that strange way that Tessa loved, the feeling of putting the entirety of her trust in him with every gravity-defying lift and dizzying spin. And off-ice, when they would stay up until 3 AM talking about everything and nothing, the way they could sit on his couch for hours, her head resting in the crook of his neck, when he would listen to her useless rants and she would support him even when he was making stupid decisions, the way they could walk into each other’s homes without a second thought.

The way Scott would say her name was unparalleled.

Tessa couldn’t describe it, the way his voice would bring her name to life. It was like nothing she had ever heard before; a song unique to her own ears, composed solely for her, the final composition including every musical element she could possibly dream of in just five letters, two syllables, one word.

She loves Chris. She does, so much. She wouldn’t want to be with anyone else right now, not by a long shot. 

Although her name on his tongue is an invitation to a home she’s always dreamed of, she wonders if maybe home right now isn’t Chris. 

Maybe Tessa will eventually find a home in him; maybe they just need a little more time. What she has with him is just so new and fragile and they’re still working on the foundation.

But she can’t help but think about her other home, the one that’s already established, the home she’s laughed with and yelled at and ignored and loved so deeply for over a decade.

Home is Scott.

Rather, home _ was _ Scott.

Their home is falling apart so agonizingly slow now, windows shattering and shingles coming loose, shutters unhinging and bricks cracking.

They haven’t spoken in months, not since the summer.

She hasn’t exactly reached out, she’ll have to admit, but neither has he.

Why?

Tessa doesn’t know.

Maybe the foundation wasn’t as steady as she’s convinced herself it was all these years.

Perhaps this home was destined to break.

Or, maybe this home was never meant to be built.

It’s this thought that finally breaks the dam within Tessa that she’s spent nearly two years building, sending her into a flurry of tears and sobs that has her holding onto Chris like he’s her lifeline.

He secures her in his embrace, cradling her head where it’s buried in his chest, attempting to still her small, shaking body, oblivious to just how deep the wound he previously referred to was. 

They stay like that for a while, tears carving creeks into Tessa’s cheeks before dripping onto the scratchy material of Chris’ jacket, him whispering words of assurance into her ear as she tries to concentrate on calming herself down enough to get even just one word out of her lungs.

She hates this, hates being vulnerable out in the open with someone who’s been in her life for less than a year.

She knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help it.

Maybe the reason Tessa couldn’t see a home in Chris was because she was trying to compare it to a home that is so badly damaged that it isn’t even a home anymore.

There, on the corner of the dimly lit street a few blocks over from her home in the bitter cold, she tells Chris everything, from her first competitions with Scott at ages 7 and 9 to Scott’s pairing with Alana and everything in between. 

Even her surgery.

She omits the newer parts, though, the ones where her insides ignite with jealousy whenever she watched Scott skate, and how Tessa’s watching their friendship fall apart but feels utterly useless, like she can't do anything about it except sit quietly off to the side and watch. 

She also fails to mention how sometimes, when sleep refuses to take her into a dreamless, lawless land, she imagines her and Scott as tragic heroes in a Shakespearian play: the rocky plotline of their lives has reached the climax, that point in the story where they’re required to throw their bodies into an inevitable, painful downfall that they’ll never be able to recover from, ultimately resulting in their deaths.

When Tessa and Chris finally return to her home, it’s long after 10 PM, her family having already eaten dessert and opened presents.

She feels a little guilty for abandoning everyone to have what she’s sure is the ugliest, most pathetic breakdown in all of history.

But maybe she needed that.

Tessa feels so much more at peace now, not only with Chris but with herself as well. 

Even after two years, Tessa had never voiced her feelings beyond her reflection in the steamy mirror of the bathroom, fresh water from the shower mixed with her silent, salty tears.

In the beginning when her and Scott were still close, the tears were for the way she felt she had disappointed him, for the way she forced him to start anew so abruptly. They were for the way her heart sunk whenever she watched Scott and Alana skate, the way they moved so well together, as if they were always meant to be on the ice with each other. 

And then, they were simply for the pain that had built a home in her heartstrings, reminding her of the growing distance between her and the one person she thought would be in her life forever.

But now, Tessa doesn’t think about Scott.

He doesn’t enter her thoughts once for the remainder of the night. 

Instead, she lives in the moment: she smiles at her family, who she can tell are concerned for her, but leave the words unsaid; she listens to her sleepy niece’s story about her Christmas themed show-and-tell at school last week; she laughs boldly, eyes squinted much like the rest of those around her, at her uncle’s classic jokes; she hugs each relative in thanks after opening their thoughtful gifts to her.

She even kisses Chris in front of everyone, something she’s never done before, after opening his gift to her: a dainty silver ring with a small emerald-hued jewel in the centre, their initials engraved on either side of the stone. 

It’s perfect. 

Tessa wants to thank him in the one way she knows best, upstairs in the sacred oasis that is her bedroom, where it’s just her and him their bodies together and absolutely nothing else.

But she knows that now wouldn’t be the best time for that.

So instead, she settles on a simple, emotional ‘thank you,’ a chorus of “Aw” erupting as she slides the ring onto her finger.

And once everyone finally leaves for the night, the clock inching closer to midnight, Tessa wants nothing more than to sleep. 

Who would have thought that baring your soul to the person you’ve tried so hard to be strong around for nearly a year would be so exhausting?

As she returns to her room after showering, Tessa notices the little light at the top of her phone is flashing to indicate a missed call. 

She has no idea who on earth would be calling her at this hour, but she tells herself that she’ll figure it out in the morning as she flips her phone over and turns off the light.

_ “Hey, T. It’s me. Just calling to say Merry Christmas. I hope your day was good. Probably extra busy, as Christmas usually is, which is why I’m guessing you didn’t call. Anyway, I haven’t heard from you in a while, so I just wanted to check in and see how things are going. Uh, yeah. Chat soon.” _

Tessa closes her eyes.

Between the busyness of the day and her desperation to get Scott out of her head, she just completely forgot to wish Scott a Merry Christmas. 

Not a year has passed that they weren’t either together for the holiday or at least called each other or dropped off cookies or gifts at each other’s homes. 

Not until this year.

She feels like the shittiest person on the planet. 

But then again, why did _ she _ have to call _ him_?

Why couldn’t he have just called earlier than 11:48 PM?

Why was it her responsibility to make the first move?

Why couldn’t they just be okay?

Tessa takes a deep breath, trying to prevent herself from going through a repeat of the previous night. 

Everything will be okay.

She takes her time scrolling through her contacts, hovering her finger over the button that will select Scott’s name and call his phone. 

She feels nervous, like when you have to call the doctor’s office for the first time once your parents can’t anymore.

She doesn’t know why; it’s _ Scott_, for fuck’s sake.

Even if they’re not exactly good right now, he’s still Scott, and she’s still Tessa.

But she still has to give herself those pep talks, the _ The Sooner You Call, The Sooner It Will Be Done And Over With _ and the _ It’s Literally Not That Bad _ and the _ Stop Being Such a Chicken_.

She finally calls six minutes later, relieved when she only gets his voicemail.

She isn’t sure if she could talk to him right now.

“Hey Scott, it’s me. I just got your message. I’m so, so sorry I didn’t call yesterday. It was definitely busy, with my brothers and grandparents and Chris and—.” Tessa stops herself. He doesn’t need to know any of this. “Anyway, I hope you had a lovely Christmas. Call me back once you get this, we need to catch up!”

Scott doesn’t call her back for five days.

** _June 23, 2012_ **

Convocation. 

It’s a strange day, consequently accompanied by a strange feeling.

Bittersweet, perhaps.

Tessa’s beyond glad to finally be graduating. It’s the one thing that reassures her that all the stress and tears and sleepless nights to get to and maintain that perfect 4.0 GPA were one hundred percent worth it. 

And then she’ll do it all again come the fall.

She’s been admitted to the University of Toronto for their Master of Science program in psychology, but that doesn’t start up until mid-September. 

So, she doesn’t have to stress just yet.

As much as she’s glad it’s over, Tessa has to admit that she’ll also miss Western. All the professors and peers she befriended and the sturdy schedule and the constant learning that she’s never been able to experience before. 

It’s weird, Tessa thinks, how it’s all gone by so quickly yet so slowly. 

It was _ a lot_, so she’s quite proud of herself for getting through it all.

To make things a little bit better, Tessa was selected to be Valedictorian of her class, something that she has wanted so badly since she first went back to university after her surgery.

It’s so surreal yet so legitimate that it scares her on some level. She’s been writing and rewriting and editing her speech for weeks, another meticulous task added to the overwhelming stack of final assignments, fifty-page exam reviews, and extended work hours.

But now it’s complete; four weeks of work for ten minutes of speaking time.

She’s been practicing in the mirror every morning, mentally noting what parts may need some revision, when to pause, what to emphasize, and when to _ breathe_. 

She forgets about breathing sometimes.

Tessa just wants to do the absolute best, to be as perfect and poised as she presents herself to her classmates. 

But she can’t deny that she’s so fucking nervous. 

She just doesn’t want to make a damn fool of herself, especially in front of her family. 

Kate is attending the ceremony. Jordan was supposed to, but something had come up at work that Tessa knew was way more important than her boring graduation. Her brothers couldn’t make the drive down, and it was no surprise that her father never responded to her invite. 

So, it’s just her mother. 

Tessa debated on asking Scott if he wanted to attend, but the last few months, the already scarce texts she’s sent to him have gone without reply or couldn’t be delivered. 

It’s not this that hurts the most, though; it’s that her calls to him when she needed him the most have gone unanswered, especially back in January when Tessa and Chris had ended their relationship.

Scott had told her once that he would “beat Chris up” if he ever hurt Tessa. She remembers that conversation quite well, the one from two years ago when she and Chris first made things official. 

But when she was lying numbly in a heap on her bedroom floor, drowning in her own tears on that gut-wrenching night she found out Chris had been cheating on her, he didn’t pick up the phone any of the five times Tessa had called him. 

Scott never returned any of those calls.

It was by far the worst day of Tessa’s life.

Jordan was there to comfort her, though. She went out and bought her chocolate from those late-night convenience stores and watched cringey romcoms with her until 2 AM even though Tessa knew Jordan had things to do that were so much more important.

She was so thankful for her sister that night.

But she couldn’t shake that awful feeling that failure of getting through to Scott brought upon her bones.

The feeling still lingers months later.

She and Scott just aren’t _ them _ anymore.

She isn’t really sure why, but at the same time, she knows _ exactly _why.

Tessa’s trying to accept it, accept the fact that her and Scott are growing apart. 

It was inevitable, she thinks; after all, what could she expect when she went from spending all her time with him to talking maybe once a week, if that?

But, it was an inevitability that did not sit well within her.

It hangs heavily on each of her ribs, assisting gravity in its attempt to pull her into the earth below and into oblivion. 

Tessa tries to block the thought from her mind as she finishes curling her long, freshly dyed dark brown hair. She’s swiping on a muted pink lipstick, the finishing touch to her makeup as her phone begins to vibrate towards the edge of the bathroom countertop.

The number appears as unknown.

She debates on answering it, wondering if it’s worth it at this point when she still has to put on her dress, but her finger finds the green _ Accept _ button anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo.”

Tessa both relaxes and tenses at the sound of Scott’s familiar voice.

“Hey! Did you get a new number? You came up as unknown.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Back in January, actually.”

“Oh okay.” Tessa tries to ignore the icy slap that comes with his words.

Everything makes sense now.

When Scott fails to say anything further, Tessa speaks up.

“So...what’s up?”

He clears his throat. “Just wanted to say congrats on surviving Uni. Today’s your grad, right?”

“You got it.” Tessa nods, even though she knows Scott can’t see her.

She has no idea how he knows this. 

“Okay, one piece of advice: don’t trip walking up to or on the stage. Will not look good.” Scott attempts a joke, but it sounds so painfully awkward.

Tessa forces a laugh. “Can’t make any promises.”

Silence snakes its way through the phone line, the soft hum and crackle of the connection the only thing that’s preventing her from going absolutely insane.

Tessa hates this.

She wonders if Scott hates it too.

But maybe he doesn’t even notice.

“Are you nervous?” He says suddenly, obviously in an attempt to revive the conversation. “Like, not that you really have anything to be nervous about, I guess. But, does it feel weird?”

Tessa shrugs. “Not really.”

“Oh.”

“I think I’m just glad it’s over.” She adds quickly, feeling like she needs to expand on her two-word, emotionless answer to make herself sound less distant than she feels right now. 

“I would be too.”

Scott laughs. 

She doesn’t.

And then the quiet is back, seething uncomfortably into her muscles. She has to walk around, pacing the hall and then her room and then the bathroom to prevent her body from going numb.

Fuck, she hates this. 

“Hey,” they say in unison, causing a giggle that sounds nothing like hers to escape her lips as he lets out what seems to be a forced chuckle. 

“You go first,” Scott says.

“Okay,” Tessa starts. “I know this is kind of last minute, but, um, I have an extra ticket for the ceremony because Jordan got called in for work today. Did you want to come?”

She already knows the answer, but she figures she’d try anyway.

“Uh, no, I can’t. I have...um...some training and stuff. You know...it never stops, right?”

“Yeah, of course. No worries.”

Tessa tries to ignore the sadness pulling her into the ground, its force immeasurably stronger than that of gravity. 

“Anyway, what were you going to say?” She questions.

“Oh, nothing. It wasn’t important.”

Something about the tone of his voice makes her think otherwise, but she doesn’t have the energy in her to press further. 

So, she just drops it.

“Oh. Okay.”

Once again, the line falls silent. 

How could she have allowed them to end up here?

“I should, um, probably get going,” Tessa says softly. She can’t bear to make any more small talk. “I have to finish getting ready.”

“Right. Of course.”

If she didn’t know any better, Tessa would say Scott sounds almost disappointed. 

But Tessa does know better, and she knows that if he wanted to talk, he’d make the effort.

He isn’t; he hasn’t been. 

Not even close.

“It was great talking to you again.”

Only half a lie.

“Yeah. You too.”

“Yeah,” Tessa repeats, fully aware of how idiotic she sounds.

“Bye, T.”

“Bye, Scott.”

She’s about to hang up, but then she hears his voice crackling through the small speaker.

“Oh, just so you know: you deserve this, everything more than anyone. Proud of you.”

Tessa isn’t quite sure what he means when he says she deserves this. Deserves to graduate? Deserves her degree? Deserves the opportunities that have come her way? Deserves all the stress? Deserves to have the future she dreamed of demolished by her legs? Deserves to watch the presence of her best friend disintegrate before her eyes?

How the fuck does she deserve any of that?

But she doesn’t say that. 

Instead, she settles on a simple “Thanks” before the line becomes quiet once more. 

But this time, there’s no one on the other end.

** _September 2, 2012_ **

Summer’s gone by _ way _ too fast for Tessa’s liking.

She adores autumn, so that part isn’t terrible. She loves the way the leaves fall like delicate feathers, the crispness of the fresh air, the way every place smells like cinnamon and nutmeg, the influx of reds and oranges and yellows splattered around the city.

But she’s so fucking nervous to go back to school in just a little over a week.

Tessa knows that a master’s degree is much more demanding than a bachelor’s degree and will one hundred percent throw her into uncharted chaos for the next eighteen months. 

She is a little bit excited, though.

Deciding to complete her Master of Science in psychology at the University of Toronto meant needing to find a place to live nearby, because commuting from London to Toronto would _ not _ be fun.

Luckily, Tessa found a rather nice studio apartment to rent for a reasonable price back in July. It was just a ten-minute walk from campus, and it was...cozy, as she would call it. But it was part of a newly built high-rise development which meant the space was also refreshingly modern: a bundle of copper-hued light fixtures hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room; sleek cupboards that match the dark, hardwood flooring; a beautiful floor-to-ceiling window that frames the downtown core of the city.

And, of course, Tessa’s favourite: the pristine white walls, a blank canvas that invites her to decorate the place as her heart desires.

But what she loves even more: no roommates.

Tessa’s learned that although she loves socializing and spending time with friends, she also isn’t sure if she could bear living with people who aren’t family full-time. 

Dealing with Jordan is one thing, but anyone else?

No way.

She’s changed a _ lot _ over the last few years, going from wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by people to enjoying all the time alone she could get.

Tessa had some fun decorating the apartment, making sure to (finally) get her own television in addition to adding a gallery wall of photos of her and friends and family. She got a little bold when buying the emerald green couch that now sits in front of the TV, but Tessa thinks the black-and-white map-printed pillows make the accent colour less intense.

That, and they’re really on-trend this year.

She switched from her usual white sheets to black instead for her queen bed, something that still feels a little alien to Tessa, who’s had white sheets for half of her life.

But this apartment was the beginning of a brand-new chapter of her life; why not get a little out of her comfort zone to celebrate the start of something incredible?

It’s been nearly two months since Tessa moved in now, and she finds it becoming more and more like home with each passing day.

She admits it was strange at first, going from her own home with multiple floors and rooms to a single, large room with _ everything _ in it (except the bathroom; of course that was a separate room).

Now, it’s just really convenient.

She especially loves how she can practically flop onto her bed, just a few steps beyond the door, which is what she does as she arrives home from her day out.

It’s been a long day, from grocery shopping to buying the materials needed for her classes, plus some much needed clothes shopping and technology repairing. It’s late now, well after 9 PM, and Tessa knows that if it weren’t for the subway delays, she would have been home by now, showered and in her pyjamas and watching a marathon of _ The Bachelor _ while in bed.

Another perk of the apartment: she can see the TV _ from the bed _.

An absolute blessing.

But Tessa just wants sleep at this point, her body protesting as she lifts herself from the soft mattress and drags her legs into the bathroom to cleanse her skin of the day.

It takes a while to get her limbs to cooperate, but within half an hour she’s ready to pass out.

She lets herself fall onto her bed once more, not even bothering to turn out the light. She’s so exhausted that she’s sure it won’t affect her ability to succumb to sleep in any way.

Tessa feels every muscle and joint in her body slowly relaxing and loosening, ready to be put to rest, until a single thought jolts her awake.

It’s September 2nd.

And what is September 2nd?

Scott’s birthday.

Tessa closes her eyes, a deep sigh escaping her lips.

Why did her mind have to remind her _ now_? Why not twelve hours ago?

But she’s wide awake at this point, so it doesn’t really matter.

Before her brain can stop her, she’s grabbing her Blackberry from the nightstand, her thumb selecting Scott’s name from her list of contacts and pressing _ Call_.

It isn’t until the third ring that Tessa realizes what she’s actually doing.

_ Calling_? 

She could have just _ texted _ him.

Is it too late to hang up? Surely his phone must be ringing, unless it’s on silent. He’ll know she called. But will he really care enough to call her back? Will he—

“Tessa?” he says, voice full of confusion, as if her name flashing across his phone screen was the last thing in the world he expected.

It sends an unsettling shock throughout her body. 

She didn’t think her calling him would be _ that _ unforeseen.

But then again, maybe it is; they haven’t really spoken since her convocation.

In fact, they haven’t spoken at _ all _ since her convocation.

And before that painfully awkward, five-minute conversation (or rather, silence), they hadn’t spoken since the beginning of the year, thanks to Scott’s number change and Tessa’s lack of awareness of it.

Maybe he does have the grounds to be confused right now.

She would be too if someone who she’d spoken to _ once _ in over half a year called her up at 10:30 PM, even on her birthday.

She definitely should have just texted.

Tessa suddenly wants nothing more than to hang up the phone and hide away forever.

But she knows it’s too late for that now.

“Hey!” she says, so overly enthusiastic that she wants to vomit.

God, why does she always make things more weird than they need to be?

“Hey,” she tries again, this time at a much more appropriate tone. “Just calling to say happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” He says it like he means it, hint of warmth in his voice.

It makes Tessa feel a little less strange.

“Yeah, of course.”

The line falls into silence, though Tessa’s grown accustomed to it now. She isn’t sure if she should say something else or if they’ve reached the end of their call and it’s time for her say goodbye and hang up.

But in the soundlessness, she remembers a time when they wouldn’t even greet each other when answering the phone, but rather launch into whatever it was that they wanted to say. 

When conversations went on for hours and hours into the dead of night, despite having spent twelve hours together that same day.

When being with each other was one of the most comforting things in the entire universe, especially after a tough day or when the road ahead just wasn’t looking too bright.

When the only silence on the phone was when one of them made the other guess what they were calling for, and they had to contemplate their final answer for a few moments before _ always _ getting it wrong.

Except for once, when she called Scott to tell him that she was accepted into the University of Windsor, her top choice for school (and only, due to them being the most accommodating for her schedule), back in 2007.

She has _ no _ idea how he knew. Maybe it was just that it was acceptance season and he had faith in her, so he was able to figure it out on his own.

Tessa misses that; the closeness, the comfort, the care.

But none of that is left.

She doesn’t even know what’s truly there anymore.

Scott clears his throat. “So, uh, what are you up to these days? Anything exciting?

She wants to tell him about moving into her new place and starting her master’s next week and how she went to Greece this summer and how she’s looking into doing an exchange in France for a few weeks during her studies and how her legs don’t hurt her anymore and how she has an internship at one of the best psychological research centres in the province.

But Tessa can’t bring herself to say any of it.

She sighs, settling on: “Not a whole lot, honestly.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Not really.”

Scott hums in understanding. “Oh, nice.”

“What about you?” 

“Training, mostly. Competing. Same old, same old.”

“Right.” She laughs softly, feeling incredibly stupid.

What else would he be doing?

Tessa pipes up, actually having something relevant to contribute to the conversation. “Oh, I’ve really been liking your free this season. The _ Carmen _ one. It’s…” She searches for the right word. “Intense? But it’s amazing.”

“You still watch us skate?” He says softly, the surprise in his voice mixed with a bit of something else. Relief, maybe?

“Well, yeah.” She says it as though he’s crazy to think that she _ wouldn’t _ watch.

“Wow...that means a lot, T. Thanks. Really.” There’s true warmth and appreciation in his voice, and it makes Tessa smile a little bit.

“You’re welcome.”

The quiet that follows is slightly more comforting than the last. It settles around them like a noiseless acknowledgement that maybe they aren’t as far gone as Tessa thought, that maybe there’s still part of them that cares for and appreciates the other. 

“So, uh—” Scott cuts himself off. 

“Hm?”

“Actually, never mind,” he says quickly.

He did that during their last call, too, the one in June.

She wonders what he wanted to say both times. Maybe he was going to apologize, say that he misses having her around and he isn’t sure what has made them so distant but he wants to overcome it, to mend whatever’s broken and have her back in his life like she once was.

But she knows that’s probably not it.

After all, though she’s only just begun to admit it, it’s all just as much her fault as it is his.

Should she be apologizing?

“Oh. Okay,” she says finally. She doesn’t feel like pressing further.

A curious voice travels through the phone then, though the words spoken are incomprehensible on Tessa’s side of the phone.

A girl.

Scott tells her in a hushed voice that he’s coming back, just to give him a minute, a ‘babe’ thrown somewhere in the middle.

Her heart sinks a little. 

She wishes it didn’t.

“I, um, gotta get going.” Scott’s cautious words cut through her thoughts. “Got a bit of an early day tomorrow. Talk soon?”

No, they won’t.

“Yeah.” 

But it’s just a reflex at this point.

“Bye, T.”

Tessa opens her mouth to give her valediction, but the line quickly cuts off, replaced instead with a steady dial tone.

“Bye,” she whispers, to no one in particular.

** _February 17, 2014_ **

Tessa has to admit, it feels a little odd to watch Scott and Alana skate, silently cheering them on and pumping her fist whenever they nail an element of their program.

They look so dreamy on the ice, moving so gracefully in-time with the music. Each movement and facial expression perfectly embodies the piece; it’s as though they are the personifications of each phrase, each bar, each note, bringing it to life. Tessa still can’t take her eyes off of Alana’s costume and its details, though she also admires how well Scott’s navy blue outfit compliments it.

But amidst all this, there’s still that underlying feeling of whatever the hell it is that Tessa feels, the one that tells her that willingly choosing to watch her old partner and used-to-be best friend live his life and succeed without her is absolutely psychotic. That the only reason she watches is because of some internal battle within herself that knows she’ll never get that closure, and watching him skate is the only thing she can do to know that he’s at least left her for a good reason, that maybe she needed to be left behind for him to get here. 

She needs to know that their demise was worth it.

She always said she wanted the best for him, and maybe that best was never meant to include her.

She thinks that it would be different if she still spoke with Scott often, catching up a couple of times a month between their ridiculously busy schedules, with Tessa’s field placements and teaching assistant positions and research, and him with his ever-intensifying training routines, just like they used to years ago.

But, they haven’t spoken in over a year.

Not since his birthday two years ago.

She thinks he may have sent her a ‘Happy Birthday’ text last year for her twenty-fourth birthday, but honestly, she can’t remember.

She’s almost certain she didn’t wish him a happy birthday back in September.

So yes, it’s quite strange to watch someone who used to be so intricately intertwined in your life live out their dream without you by their side. 

Tessa can’t help but wonder how differently everything would have turned out if she didn’t quit. If she didn’t listen to the doctors who strongly advised her to quit. If she returned to competition as soon as she felt even just a little bit fine. If she pushed herself to be better—the _ best _—instead of cowering away from the sport. 

Would she have been at Vancouver? Would she have been at _ Sochi_, skating right there on that ice where Alana is right now? Would she have gone to any other Olympics? Or, would her and Scott never qualify, their disappointment from Torino recurring at the end of each quad.

Would they have won gold?

Or just silver?

Would they even podium?

What kind of programs would they have done? Would they ever do one to _ Pride and Prejudice_?

Tessa’s wanted to skate to its soundtrack since the movie first came out in 2005. 

Scott always shot it down. 

But maybe he would have given in one day. 

What kind of titles would they have won? Would they ever win a Grand Prix Final? Would they ever set any world records?

Tessa likes to think that they would have set so many records. They had it in them. 

What happens when they stop skating?

_ When _ do they stop skating?

Tessa hopes they would have skated for a long time. 

At least until she was thirty years old. She thinks thirty is a good time to stop competing, at least. Then, she could do whatever she wanted and skate more casually in shows.

Tessa always wanted to skate in shows.

She hopes that her would-have-been self skates in shows.

But what would they do after that? After they decide they’re done competing?

Tessa isn’t really sure about this one; it’s one part of her and Scott’s would-have-been future that she can never clearly visualize in her head. 

Would their friendship still be strong? Would they enjoy spending time together, watching movie marathons on his couch or going out for coffee?

Or would they inevitably find themselves in the same predicament they do now?

Is skating the only thing that holds them together in every version of themselves?

Tessa hopes not; she imagines their would-have-been selves as people that would be friends for a long time.

Maybe even fell in love. 

She likes to think that they would have fallen in love.

But that’s not them, not now, not in this version.

Now, as the program playing out in front of her comes to a close, the final notes of the symphony playing out as they make their way into their final pose, Tessa returns her focus to her television screen. 

The arena erupts into a loud applause, the couple giving each other a quick hug before taking their bows and heading off the ice. Slow-motion montages of the best moments of their program now play across Tessa’s screen as a commentator praises their skating.

Tessa thinks she’s just as nervous as Scott and Alana right now, shifting around uncomfortably in their seats in the Kiss and Cry as they wait for their scores to he announced.

They were the last pair to take the ice, which makes it both more and less nerve wracking; more, because they have to be able to beat out all these other teams, but less, because they know that their place is solidified since no one else can come after them.

Tessa is sure the entire world falls silent as the announcer’s voice booms throughout the arena.

They’re in second place.

Tessa finds herself jumping up from her couch, heart swollen with pride for him.

Winning silver at an Olympic debut is _ incredible. _

She hopes he knows that. 

She thinks he does, based on how tightly he’s hugging Alana, both of them crushing the oxygen out of each other.

For a moment, Tessa’s thoughts entertain the idea that if it were her skating with Scott, they would have surely won gold.

But, she pushes it away.

She doesn’t need to think that way; she needs to let it go.

There’s no way to know where she and Scott would have ended up because it’s a timeline that simply doesn’t exist. 

A timeline that will _ never _ exist. 

And Tessa needs to let it go.

She’s en route to becoming a _ doctor _ for crying out loud, beginning her PhD next winter.

She isn’t a skater. 

She hasn’t been for five years. 

That just wasn’t her fate. 

Tessa Virtue was just not meant to be a figure skater.

The universe didn’t want that for her. 

It wanted her to research, to teach, to help make other people’s lives more peaceful in an age where stress occupied every single inch of your life. 

It was meant to be this way. 

And Tessa finds, as the event wraps up on her television, that she’s okay with it.

For the first time in five years, she is _ okay. _

She decides then that, pushing aside the pathetic fact that she’s had absolutely no contact with him in over a year, she wants to talk to Scott. 

She thinks that a text will probably go about better, considering that she also has no idea if he’s even anywhere _ close _ to his phone right now. 

But also, she doesn’t think she has the guts to call him. 

So, Tessa scrolls through her contacts, the selection of his name so foreign to her mind and her thumb. 

She types out a message slowly, giving herself time to change her mind and decide that she’s making a bad choice.

But, she doesn’t.

And then she hits _ send_.

T: _ Not sure when you’ll see this, but congratulations! I’m so proud of you :) _

Tessa never gets a reply.


End file.
